Drizzt Goes to College
by AmbrMerlinus
Summary: Harkle Harpell's latest experiment has disastrous results, and Drizzt is sent off to a world even more dangerous than Faerûn. Will the Companions ever get Drizzt back? Can Drizzt's new allies get him home before they accidentally kill him?
1. In Our World

A bright light assaulted Drizzt's sensitive eyes, foreign noises cluttered his ears, and noxious air choked his throat. Coughing, blinking, squinting, he looked around. He was surrounded by humans in strange clothes, all walking past him in a single direction. None of them looked at him; all seemed intently focused on the ground or, in rare cases, each other.

Drizzt sighed and put a hand to his aching head. What had Harkle Harpell gotten him into now?

Despite having his ears covered by a bandanna, Zed heard the familiar "pop" of a teleportation spell. The sound didn't bother him until he remembered that he was at state college, and that precious few people here knew about magic, and that none of them should be allowed to teleport, for the sake of their own safety and that of those around them. So it was understandable that he panicked, dropping into a crouch and throwing his backpack out in front of him as a shield. Students passing by gave him weird looks, but he paid them no heed, his senses focused on other things. He scanned the horizon, looking for anything that seemed out of place.

Then he noticed the drow in the crosswalk.

"...SHIT!" Zed dropped his bag and sprinted down the sidewalk towards the crosswalk. Now he was turning heads, but at this point he really didn't care. It was better that all attention be focused on Zed the freaky film student than on the drow elf who'd appeared out of nowhere. "Beg pardon, 'scuse me, sorry--" he pushed his way against the herd of students shuffling towards early-morning classes and finally reached the drow.

Drizzt was disoriented, yes, but not so much as to lose all his skill. He noticed the boy running at him and delicately stepped backwards out of his way. The boy followed Drizzt's step, grabbing for Drizzt's wrist.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but you'd best come with me," said the boy.

Drizzt snapped his arm out of the boy's reach. "What for?" He was in a strange place with only the faintest idea of how he'd gotten there, but he wasn't about to follow any random passerby. It could easily be a trap.

The boy opened his mouth to speak again, looking annoyed, but before any sound came out he was interrupted by one of the most horrible noise Drizzt had ever heard. The drow snapped his head around to find the source of the noise and was confronted by a contraption the likes of which he had never before seen.

The noise came again, halfway between a screech and a bellow, lasting only for a second but ringing in Drizzt's ears for a fair time afterwards. The contraption was about the size of a farmer's wagon and sat low on the road. Drizzt couldn't quite discern what it was made of, or what it was for. Then a head - a human head - leaned out the left side of the contraption (that Drizzt could now, with reasonable certainty, refer to as a "vehicle") and shouted at them.

"YO, FAGGOT! YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

The boy winced, then grabbed for Drizzt's arm again. "Seriously, we need to-"

Drizzt made no argument this time but followed the boy as he walked briskly out of the street and stepped onto a side path, lined with young trees. As soon as the drow and the boy were out of the road, the vehicle made a noise like the growl of an angry beast and lurched forward, speeding away down the road more quickly than Drizzt had expected.

Now Drizzt took his arm out of the boy's reach. "Who are you?"

The boy smiled weakly and bowed. "Zedric Grimes; most people call me Zed." Zed straightened. "And you?"

The name sounded unfamiliar and, quite frankly, weird to Drizzt's ears. He wasn't sure how much information was safe to reveal to the stranger, this Zed. "Drizzt Do'Urden," he said finally, figuring that honesty would get the best results.

Zed's green eyes widened momentarily. He quickly tried to cover up his shock by coughing a little and rubbing the back of his neck profusely. "Right. Do you know where you are?"

"No," Drizzt admitted.

Zed sighed. "Do you know how you got here?"

Drizzt shrugged. "A friend of mine is a wizard. His magic has... mixed results."

"I know the feeling," Zed muttered, rolling his eyes. "But yeah, think your friend can get you back to where you were?"

"If I had a way to contact him..." Drizzt paused. He wasn't sure he wanted Harkle to be the one who came to his rescue. He'd been teleported without warning to gods-know-where, but at least he was in one piece. If Harkle tried to put him back where he belonged, there was no telling what would happen.

"But you don't have a way to contact him," Zed guessed.

Drizzt sighed and nodded.

Zedric rubbed the back of his head, deep in thought, going so far as to remove his kerchief and run his fingers through his red hair.

"Right," said Zed. "So you're stuck here a while." He sighed and retied his kerchief. "And you really, really don't fit in." He glanced nervously up and down the path. "Follow me," he said, then added, "Please."

Drizzt couldn't see any other option but to comply.

Zed was very happy that all of the early-morning foot traffic had already passed by. He could expect to have another hour of relative privacy before the next round of students bothered to get up, get dressed, and leave their dorm rooms. Glancing back at Drizzt, Zed estimated he would need that hour. The drow looked like he'd just gotten back from a Ren faire. A high-quality Ren faire, Zed admitted to himself, but a Ren faire nonetheless.

Clothes. The drow would need clothes, and a place to hide. Hell, if they couldn't get in touch with the wizard, he'd need a place to live. And food, because who knew when he'd last eaten? And after food came, inevitably, the need for... facilities. Zed couldn't help groaning; he did _not_ want to be responsible for toilet-training Drizzt Do'Urden.

The thought of the name almost stopped Zed dead in his tracks, but he forced himself to act normal. Drizzt Do'Urden. Drizzt fucking Do'Urden! Not just anybody who didn't belong, but the most famous not-belonger practically ever.

_Focus_, Zed told himself. Step one: hide the drow. Where? Not Zed's room. Zed had three roommates; three not-very-friendly roommates, at that. Who did Zed know that had the space to hide the drow, plus the friendly disposition that would be needed to insure against the eruption of violence?

"This way," said Zed, taking the left fork in the path. He couldn't hear Drizzt's footsteps, which was unnerving, to say the least, but he had to trust that the drow was following him. If he wasn't... Well, Zed didn't want to think about that.

Soon Zedric had led Drizzt to a large building made of red brick. Up to the building, through the door (unlocked, Drizzt noted), through another door and up a staircase, another door at the top of the staircase that led into a hallway, then a door at the end of that hallway to another hallway which was filled with nothing but doors.

Drizzt wrinkled his nose. The drow had experienced worse smells, certainly, but the scent of this place was still less-than-pleasant. It smelled of lightly-spoiled food, with just a hint of poison and sewage. Was there any clean air here?

Zedric approached one door and knocked on it. "Corey?" he called.

No response.

Zed looked nervously back at Drizzt, then knocked on the door again. "Leigh? Corey? Come on, open up. I need your help here."

The door swung inward, revealing a short, skinny, bespectacled creature. "Howdy, Zed!" it squeaked, smiling broadly.

Zedric's face fell. "Merlin? What..." He looked around the hallway, confused. "This isn't your room!"

"Nope!" said the creature, which Drizzt now recognized as a human female.

"Then why..." Zedric sighed, shook his head, and began again. "Merlin, why are you in Leigh and Corey's room?"

"They went hiking," said Merlin. "I'm room-sitting." She stuck her head out into the hallway and looked Drizzt right in the eye. "Oh, hello there! What's your name?"

The drow cleared his throat. "Drizzt."

"Cool. I'm Merlin!" said Merlin unnecessarily, grinning even wider. She turned back to Zedric. "What do you need?"

"Um..." Zedric looked distinctly uneasy. "My friend... Drizzt here needs a place to stay. For a bit. Just while I figure things out."

Merlin disappeared into the room, leaving the door open. "Come on in!"

"It's not your room," Zedric said weakly, but entered anyway, motioning for Drizzt to follow. The moment Drizzt entered the room, the door slammed shut behind him, making both Drizzt and Zedric jump.

The room itself was about the size of Drizzt's chamber back at Mithril Hall. There was a bed on either side, and two desks sat side-by-side against the far wall. Each side of the room would have been a mirror image of the other, were it not for the bright greens, purples, and pinks of the left side contrasted with the more muted reds and browns of the right. The floor was covered with tomes and parchment. The desks were covered in vaguely metallic devices that Drizzt couldn't recognize. Merlin sat cross-legged on the left side's bed, her nose in a tome.

Zedric sighed, and turned to face Drizzt. "So!" he said, spreading his arms out wide to indicate the surrounding area. "This is Corey and Leigh's room. They're friends of mine, and you should be safe here." Zed dropped his arms. "I have a pressing engagement at the moment, but I'll be back in about an hour. Any needs or questions--" he pointed at Merlin, who seemed not to be paying the least bit of attention, "--ask Merlin, she'll be happy to help. Understood?"

Drizzt nodded gravely.

Zedric wished there was more time to explain, but a glance at Leigh's alarm clock told him he was already a half-hour late for his art history lecture. Flashing Drizzt a weak smile, he opened the door and departed.

Now it was just the drow and the girl. Several moments of tense silence passed before Merlin looked up from her book.

"You can sit down if you want. I highly recommend the red chair. It's very nice."

Drizzt glanced behind himself to the high-backed chair on the other side of the room, upholstered with some sort of shiny red material. He walked over and sat, finding that it was indeed more comfortable than standing.

"May I ask you a few questions?" he said tentatively, unsure if it was wise to distract the squealy girl from her reading.

"Sure!" Merlin verily threw the book onto the bright green blanket; it bounced a few times and then settled. She hopped around a bit so that she faced the drow, then put her chin in her hands and stared, again, directly into his eyes. Her gaze was a little unnerving. "Whaddya wanna know?"

It took a moment for Drizzt to understand what she was saying. "Where am I?"

"Leigh'n'Corey's room." Merlin grinned.

Drizzt sighed. "And where is that?"

"Here."

Drizzt rubbed his forehead; he was starting to get a headache. He thought carefully about how to phrase his question so that he would get a straight answer. "What is the name of this realm?"

"United States," said Merlin, "of America."

Drizzt considered her answer. "That name means nothing to me."

"I didn't really expect it to," said Merlin. "You're severely not from around here."

"Do you know where I'm from?" Drizzt asked her.

"I'd guess Faerûn, what with you being a drow and all."

"You have me at multiple disadvantages," said Drizzt.

Merlin grinned wickedly. "Sure do." She frowned suddenly. "'Course, you've got a nice pair of swords there," she shrugged and gestured to her own empty belt, "and I don't."

"Are you suggesting that I threaten you for information?" said Drizzt, knowing full well he would never do such a thing. This Merlin was obnoxious, to be sure, but she didn't seem evil.

The girl shrugged. "You could." She yawned. "Frankly, I'm kind of surprised that you haven't. You're rather polite, for a drow."

Drizzt smiled weakly. "So I've been told." He intended to continue questioning the girl but paused, frowning, at the sound of footsteps outside the door, and the scrape of a key in the lock.

The door opened, revealing a tall human girl with long brown hair. She gawked at Drizzt, then screamed.


	2. Trouble with Computers

Harkle Harpell was in big trouble.

"Oh dear," he said, staring at the smoldering crater in his floor where Drizzt Do'Urden had been standing. Drizzt and Catti-brie had been the honored guests of the Harpell mansion for the past few days, and were supposed to continue being honored guests for weeks more. From the look of things now, the guest list had just been reduced by one.

"Oh, dear," Harkle said again, nervously tapping his fingertips together. He looked back at his spellbook. He hadn't meant to sneeze in the middle of the incantation, he really hadn't, but it was an uncontrollable physical reaction to the dust that had gathered on the pages, and now...

He bit his lip, looking back at the crater, which had stopped smoldering but still bore scorch marks.

There was a knock on his door. He jumped.

"Harkle? Have ye seen Drizzt around?" The princess of Clan Battlehammer herself had come to call.

"One moment!" Harkle cried, snatching the quilt from his bed and throwing it over the crater. "Come in!"

Catti-brie entered, glancing around the room briefly and wrinkling her nose at the lingering scent of sulfur. "What're ye up to now?" she asked idly.

"Up to?" Harkle said shrilly. "Me? Why, nothing, of course!" He laughed, high-pitched and obviously fake. "Just wasting the time away, you know..."

Catti-brie raised an eyebrow, but thought nothing of Harkle's weird behavior. He was a Harpell, it was to be expected. "Has Drizzt stopped by here?" she asked.

Harkle bit his lip. He could lie, and say he hadn't seen Drizzt today, but that would send the entire Harpell mansion into a frenzy of hopeless searching which would ultimately hinder his personal efforts to bring Drizzt back home. Conversely, he could tell the truth... but who knew what punishment an angry Catti-brie would dish out?

"Harkle?"

"I DID IT!" he shrieked, throwing his hands into the air. "I REGRET EVERYTHING!"

"Harkle!" said Catti-brie, astonished, as the wizard fell to his knees and clasped his hands in front of him.

"It was just a simple spell, really," he babbled, "and I thought Drizzt would find it interesting, so I invited him to watch and then..."

Catti-brie's eyes widened. "What spell?" she asked, her voice icy-cold.

Harkle swallowed nervously. "It's... it's an illusion I learned from a friend... makes very convincing copies of weapons..."

"I don't see any weapons," Catti-brie snapped.

"W-well, see, it would be useful for Drizzt's scimitars, when he was fighting, if it looked like there were four instead of two, and I thought he would be interested and--"

"What," snarled Catti-brie, grabbing the wizard by the front of his robes and heaving him to his feet, "happened?"

Harkle trembled. "I sneezed."

"...WHAT?"

"In the middle of the incantation!" Harkle elaborated, his voice a full octave higher than it would have been under normal circumstances. "You know how spells are, they're delicate, and there was dust on the book and I sneezed and when I opened my eyes..."

Catti-brie prepared herself for the worst.

"...Drizzt was gone," Harkle finished in a whisper.

Catti-brie slowly let out the breath she had been holding. "Can ye get him back?" she asked.

Harkle couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye.

"Can ye get him back?" Catti-brie asked again, a twinge of desperation in her tone.

"...Maybe?" Harkle said, hoping that the warrior-woman would be understanding and not commit unspeakable atrocities on his flesh. Not that Catti-brie was particularly famous for beating up wizards, but then again he doubted that any wizard had ever frustrated her so badly.

Actually, there was one: Harkle's old girlfriend, Sydney. Sydney had deserved her fate, of course, having plotted with Dendybar the Mottled to kill Catti-brie's father, suitor, and friends. Still, regardless of the situation, Catti-brie had, indeed, killed frustrating wizards in the past.

Harkle whimpered and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the killing blow when it came.

"Maybe how?" said Catti-brie.

Harkle opened his eyes, surprised that he was not yet dead. "What?"

"How would ye go about gettin' him back if ye could?" Catti-brie asked, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the wizard.

"Er... um..." Harkle began tapping his fingertips together again. "I-I'd consult with my family as to what effect my sneeze could be expected to have on the spell..."

"THEN GET TO IT!" Catti-brie shouted.

Harkle screamed and jumped under the bed.

* * *

"AUGH!"

"Hi, Corey," said Merlin, completely unperturbed by the other girl's shriek. "How was your hike?"

The tall brunette, newly identified as Corey, let her line of sight flick briefly over to Merlin before she went back to staring at Drizzt.

"Merlinus," she said slowly, "Why is there a drow elf in my bedroom?"

Drizzt did his best to make himself look non-threatening. "I mean you no harm. Please--"

"I ain't talking to you!" Corey snapped. "Merlin, _why is there a drow elf in my bedroom?_"

"That's redundant," said Merlin.

"What?" said Corey, never once taking her eyes off of Drizzt.

"Drow elf," said Merlin. "It's a redundant term. The word 'drow' means 'dark elf,' so calling Drizzt here a 'drow elf' is like saying 'dark elf elf.' It's repetitious and redundant, like PIN number or ATM machine."

"Merlinus," Corey hissed, "I can honestly say that I _do not give a shit_ right now about whether or not I'm calling it by the right name. All I want to know, _right now_, is why it's sitting in my chair."

"Because I invited him to."

Corey was rendered momentarily speechless. "You... invited him?"

"He's Zedric's friend," Merlin said casually. "Drizzt, this is Corey Wagner. She lives on that side." She pointed to the right side of the room.

Drizzt stood up and stepped back, keeping his hands in clear view. "This is your chair, then," he said to Corey. "I'm sorry to have intruded."

"Corey," Merlin continued, "This is Drizzt Do'Urden."

Corey glanced at Merlin, then went back to staring at Drizzt with a newly appraising look. She murmured briefly to herself (Drizzt's keen ears caught the phrase "purple eyes"), then relaxed.

"Drizzt Do'Urden, eh?" she said.

Drizzt nodded.

Corey smiled slightly. "You can sit down if you want; I'm not gonna use the chair right now." Raising an eyebrow at Merlin, she walked past Drizzt and vaulted onto the bed. She pulled a metallic slab off of her desk and set it on her lap, then opened it. It emitted a brief, low tone, and shed light onto Corey's face.

Drizzt frowned curiously at the open slab, then went back to sit in Corey's chair. "What is that?" he asked.

"Computer," said Corey, tapping her fingers on the lower half of the open slab. "Laptop."

She might as well have been speaking the language of the gnolls as far as Drizzt's comprehension was concerned. "Pardon?" he said.

Corey turned and looked at Drizzt. "You're straight outta Faerûn, aren't ya?"

Drizzt nodded again. Corey sighed.

"Merlin?" she said. "You want to explain computers?"

"Computers can't be explained," said Merlin, her nose buried once again in her book.

"You're so helpful," Corey said, not making any effort to disguise her sarcasm. "I can see why we keep you around." She turned back to Drizzt. "Basically, a computer is..." She paused. "You know what? I'll show ya."

She lifted the slab (a computer, Drizzt reminded himself) off of her lap and hopped off the bed, pulling up another, plainer chair to sit in beside Drizzt.

"See?" she said, pointing at the upper half of the computer. "That's the screen."

The "screen," to Drizzt's eyes, was a painfully bright mess of color. There were tiny runes all over it, but he could find no pattern to them.

"And when I do this--" Corey continued, tapping on the lower half of the computer. Instantly, the locations of the unreadable runes changed. "See, the keyboard controls what happens on the screen."

"It is for amusement?" Drizzt guessed, bewildered.

Corey nodded. "That, and homework."

Drizzt doubted that the computer would be of any help with the work involved in a home.

"And communication!" Merlin piped in from the other half of the room.

Drizzt raised an eyebrow. "You can communicate with this?" he asked, pointing to the computer.

"Sure!" said Corey. She tapped the lower half of the computer (the keyboard, Drizzt said to himself, making mental notes) several times in quick succession. A new colored box came on to the screen. Corey pointed at it. "This is a list of my friends," she said. "If I click on one of them--" she tapped the keyboard, "--then I can talk to them."

Contrary to Drizzt's expectations, Corey did not begin speaking to someone he couldn't see. Rather, she continued tapping on the keyboard, making more and more runes appear in the box on the screen. Drizzt noticed a pattern to her tapping, then noticed some runes were not produced by her taps alone.

"Your communication is written," he concluded.

"Oh, yeah," said Corey. "Yeah, sorry, I should've explained that."

Drizzt squinted at the screen, reading the runes. "...Your friend is named 'bonniboo'?"

Merlin emitted a sound that was probably intended as laughter; whatever it was, it echoed shrilly in Drizzt's ears. Corey blushed.

"That's a nickname," Corey explained. "Her real name's Bonnie. Everyone uses nicknames on the internet."

"Pardon?" said Drizzt.

"Nicknames?" said Corey. "They're what people call you when--"

"No, no, sorry," Drizzt interrupted. "I understand nicknames. I meant to say, what is the internet?"

"Oh!" said Corey. "Uhhh..." She glanced at Merlin, who was back to focusing very intently on her book. Corey sighed and scratched her head. "It's... it's the thing that lets us communicate. With the nicknames."

"Is it mechanical?" asked Drizzt.

"Um, kind of," Corey answered, tapping vigorously on the keyboard. Runes practically flew onto the screen. Drizzt read them as they appeared.

bonniboo: whatre you up to?

crowcore: nm, have a friend over

bonniboo: neone i know?

crowcore: probably not. i'm teaching him how to use a computer.

bonniboo: he doesnt know already?

crowcore: nope

bonniboo: is he old or forieng or what?

crowcore: ffs, he's right here bonnie

bonniboo: ...

bonniboo: hi corey's friend

"Hello," said Drizzt. Corey smiled.

crowcore: he says hello

bonniboo: :)

"What does that mean?" Drizzt asked.

"If you tilt your head to the left, it looks like a smiley face," said Corey. Drizzt tilted his head accordingly. There was a knock at the door.

Corey looked towards the sound. "Merlin? You wanna get that?"

"Nope!" said Merlin cheerfully.

Corey sighed. Drizzt heard the scrape of a key in the lock. The door opened, and a human female with short-cropped blonde hair entered. She glanced at Drizzt and appeared momentarily puzzled before turning to Corey.

"Way to wait for me," said the newcomer.

Corey shrugged. "I was in a hurry."

The newcomer rolled her eyes and dropped a large pack onto the floor on the left side of the room. "Hey, Merlin."

"Hi, Leigh!" said Merlin brightly, shutting her book and hopping off the bed.

So this was Leigh, Drizzt thought to himself. She seemed nothing like Corey. The two women were certainly not sisters. Why were they living together?

Leigh turned back to Drizzt. "Howdy," she said.

"Hello," said Drizzt, grateful that something he knew how to respond to had finally occurred. He rose from his seat. "My name is Drizzt Do'Urden. Your name is Leigh, assuming I have heard correctly."

"You have," said Leigh. "Leigh Thomas." She extended her right hand. Drizzt smiled and stepped forward, grasping her forearm briefly. Her reaction was not as he expected; she pulled back slightly and frowned.

"So, Drizzt, where're you from?" she asked.

"Faerûn," said Drizzt, parroting the answer that had been fed to him all day.

"Come again?" said Leigh, appearing more disturbed by the second.

"He's from Oregon," Corey interrupted. "Faerûn, Oregon." She glanced at Drizzt. "It's a small town. Right?"

Drizzt caught on quickly. "Indeed."

"Barely a hamlet!" said Merlin. Corey glared at her.

Leigh relaxed visibly, smiling at Drizzt. "It's a better name than where I'm from: Apple, New Hampshire."

Drizzt smiled back. "That's not so odd."

"You've heard weirder, then." Leigh sat on her bed. "So, Drizzt, how long are you in town?"

"A few days," said Drizzt. It seemed like a reasonable estimate.

"In the middle of the work-week?" said Leigh, cocking her head to the side. "What do you do for a living?"

Corey cut in again. "Freelance."

Leigh raised her eyebrows, glancing at Corey. "Is he here to buy?"

Corey glared at her. "Wrong kind of freelance," she said, her tone icy.

Leigh laughed and shrugged. "Hey, when you say 'freelance...'" She let the sentence hang.

"Freelance fighting," Drizzt said, hoping such a career existed here.

"Bodyguard?" said Leigh.

"At times," Drizzt replied.

"Cool," said Leigh, smiling again. Drizzt relaxed.

"Hey, Leigh," said Merlin. "I should be getting back to my room."

Leigh looked at her. "You want an escort?"

"Please," said Merlin, grinning widely.

Leigh sighed and got up from the bed. "Let's go, then." She turned to Drizzt. "Nice meeting you." With that, the two girls departed.

Corey let out a loud sigh. "Good job," she said. "I was gonna say you were a freelance web designer."

Drizzt stiffened. "I do not serve Lloth," he said.

"Oh, no," said Corey, waving her hands in the air in front of her. "No, not that kind of web. Different web. It's another word for the internet."

"You were going to claim that I designed the internet?" said Drizzt incredulously, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

Corey shrugged. "You're doing pretty well with it so far. But yeah, your answer's much better." She glanced toward the door. "I think Leigh was getting suspicious."

"Shouldn't she be?" Drizzt asked. "We are lying to her."

Corey looked back to Drizzt. "That doesn't sit well with you, does it?"

Drizzt shook his head.

"Right," Corey sighed. "You know, you've been pretty lucky so far. Zed, Merlin, and me... we're pretty knowledgeable types. We've heard of drow, and better yet, we've heard of you. Trouble is, we're probably the only people on campus who have." She paused, and sighed again. "Most people don't know about drow, and they certainly don't know about Drizzt Do'Urden. That doesn't mean you're safe," she was quick to add. "On the contrary, it means you're... very not safe. I mean, you look weird," she gestured at Drizzt with her hands, "you've got white hair on a head that looks about twenty-five at the most, and nobody, I mean _nobody_ has purple eyes." She let her hands drop. "You stick out, Drizzt, and people are going to ask questions and get scared."

"Leigh is one of those people?" said Drizzt.

Corey nodded. "She doesn't have a clue. Right now she thinks you're a freelance bodyguard - which is a pretty good cover story, kudos to you - but we still have to explain the way you look. Fortunately, she's pretty open-minded and, as I mentioned previously, clueless. We should be able to keep her from talking too much about you. We have to, if we want to keep you safe. And we do."

"How do you know of me when I've never heard of you?"

Corey grinned. "Dude, you're Drizzt Do'Urden. You're frickin' _famous!_"

"That I am, but I've still never seen a computer before today."

"Up until three years ago," said Corey, giving Drizzt a meaningful look, "neither had Zedric."


	3. Wondrous Wizards

As fascinating as Van Gogh's descent into despair was, Zed found it very difficult to concentrate on the art history lecture. He was too busy making lists in his notebook, trying to organize his thoughts into a solution for what he was starting to refer to as "the Drizzt problem." Trouble was, he wasn't encountering any solutions. The more he wrote down, the more problems he discovered.

Zed tugged on the wisps of red hair that were falling out from under his bandanna. So far, the problems were shelter (taken care of), food (status uncertain), training for survival in the United States (status uncertain), clothing (needing immediate action), and getting Drizzt home (status uncertain).

After class, Zedric hopped on the bus that went from the center of campus to the center of town. From there, he walked to the Salvation Army. It was a familiar location to him; an art student with no parental support could afford little else. He perused the racks of clothes timidly, reminding himself that neither Corey nor Merlin was here to surprise him by jumping out through the clothes and shouting, "ZOMBIE ATTACK!" Soon he had selected three plain green t-shirts, two pairs of jeans (in two different waist sizes - Drizzt looked pretty skinny, but Zed wasn't sure just how skinny he was), a pair of black sweatpants to eliminate all margin of error, and a belt. That done, and a quick stop at the local Wal-Mart for socks and boxers, Zedric was soon back on campus, in Corey and Leigh's building, knocking on their door.

Drizzt answered.

"Hi!" Zed squeaked, startled. Drizzt smiled and stepped back to let him into the room. The girls were on their respective beds; Merlin was nowhere in sight.

"Okay," Zedric said loudly, announcing his presence to the girls. Neither one looked up from their laptops. He sighed.

"I got you some clothes," he said to Drizzt, handing his canvas shopping bags to the drow. "They should help you blend in better."

"Thank you," said Drizzt, peeking into the bags curiously.

"Um, how was your day?" asked Zed, rubbing the back of his neck again.

Drizzt looked up. "It's been well so far, considering. Corey has been teaching me."

Zedric glanced nervously over at Corey. "About what?"

"Computers, mostly," Drizzt shrugged, and pulled out the socks wrapped in plastic. He gave Zedric a questioning look.

"Oh, you can just rip right through that," said Zed. "It's disposable. So, Corey!" he went on, raising his voice. "How's your day been?"

Corey finally looked up. "Oh, you're back."

Zedric sighed. "Yes. Yes I am."

Corey shut her laptop and hopped off her bed. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked Zedric, jerking her head in the direction of the door. The two of them left the room. Drizzt went back to studying the package in his hands.

The... bag, for lack of any other word, felt smooth and slightly sticky at the same time. Zedric had told him to "rip through it." He frowned and dug his fingers in, finding that the packaging around the socks stretched easily. A little more stretching and it broke: two pairs of socks bounced out of the package. Drizzt caught one. The other landed on Leigh's keyboard. She looked up at Drizzt with a raised eyebrow.

"My apologies," he said, holding up the broken package by way of explanation. She sighed and tossed the socks back at him; he caught them easily.

"So," said Leigh, "why a bodyguard?"

"Pardon?" said Drizzt.

"Like, do you just have a natural talent, or does it run in the family, or..." Leigh paused. "What made you choose to become a bodyguard?"

Honesty had failed Drizzt before when dealing with Leigh, but perhaps disguised honesty could work. "My father was one before me," he said. "I had an aptitude for physical dexterity at a young age, and once it was discovered, my career was decided."

Leigh frowned. "That's sad."

"How so?" Drizzt asked.

"Well, like," said Leigh, struggling with her words, "you didn't get to choose for yourself."

Drizzt nodded. "That may be, but their choice turned out right." He smiled. "I am very good at my job."

"But do you like it?"

"Yes."

Leigh seemed surprised. Drizzt hoped he hadn't answered wrong.

* * *

"So, Zedric," said Corey, having pulled him out of the room and down the hall. "Zed. Zeddy Zed Zed."

"What?" said Zedric, more than a little nervous.

"Is your cell phone working?" Corey asked.

"What?"

"Your cell phone," Corey said. "Does it work?"

"Uh," said Zedric, not sure where this line of questioning was going. "...yeah, why?"

"Then why couldn't you call me before dumping a drow in my bedroom?!" Corey hissed, getting right up in Zedric's face and keeping her tone low.

Zedric would have smacked his own forehead were he not afraid of hitting Corey in the process. "Sorry! I--"

"Forgot?" Corey growled. "You're damn lucky I didn't attack him! I almost did, you know. You can ask Merlin."

"He would have killed you," said Zedric.

"Excuse me?"

"He would have killed you," Zedric repeated, his voice level as he looked Corey in the eye. "If you'd attacked him, you'd be dead by now, and no one would know the difference. You wouldn't have time to scream. There'd be no blood, no evidence. You'd just be gone."

Corey crossed her arms over her chest. "He's that good, eh?"

"Yes."

She sighed, dropping her arms to her sides. "Well, you're the expert in these matters. Speaking of which, how're we going to get him back where he belongs?"

Zedric winced. "I haven't the faintest."

"No idea?"

"No idea."

Corey sighed. "Great. And just how long were you planning to have him stay in my room?"

"Until he goes home," said Zedric.

"Oh, fantastic!" said Corey, throwing her arms out to either side of her. "And you were going to discuss this with me when, exactly?"

"We're discussing it now, aren't we?"

Corey answered him with an inhuman growl, low in her throat. Zedric swallowed, meeting her stare with unblinking eyes.

"Has he eaten?" he asked.

"What?" said Corey, startled out of her animal expression and reverting to human speech.

Zedric rolled his eyes. "Geez, Corey, you didn't think he might be hungry? He's been here for what, two hours now?"

"He didn't say anything about it," Corey said defensively.

"If you haven't noticed already, he's overtly polite," said Zedric.

Corey threw her hands up in the air. "Fantastic. Looks like he's going to starve to death then."

Zedric sighed, tugging on his bangs again. "Fine. Can you give me a ride to the grocery store?"

"No," said Corey.

"What? Why not?"

"Gas is four bucks a gallon, jerkweed," Corey explained her reasoning. "I'm running on empty as it is. Can you reimburse me?"

"Later," Zedric promised.

Corey snorted, unimpressed. "Right. Whatever. Look, Drizzt is your responsibility. You feed him, you walk him, et cetera. You're lucky I haven't kicked him out already. And no--" she held up a finger, warding off Zed's interruption, "--he wouldn't kill me. If he is, indeed, Drizzt Do'Urden, he wouldn't. Not unless I had tusks, and even then he'd probably give me a head start."

Zedric sighed. "Corey, please. We have to help him! We have to get him home!"

"I am helping him!" said Corey. "He's living in my room! And I'm doing my darndest to get him home, but a Google search on Harkle Harpell isn't turning up squat."

Zedric opened his mouth to retort, but paused. "Bzwah? A Google search on what?"

"Harkle Harpell," Corey said, pronouncing the name slowly. "Drizzt's friend. He says that's who sent him here."

Zedric's eyes went wide and his shoulders slumped. "Harpell?"

"Do not make me say it again."

Now Zed did smack himself in the forehead. Harpells! That cemented it; Drizzt would be stuck here for at least a month.

"Familiar name?" Corey said dryly.

"Yes," Zed groaned. "Wizards. A whole family of completely hapless wizards."

"Well, that explains why he's here," said Corey. She snapped her fingers. "Hey, so you know the guy! Fantastic! Now we can get in touch with him and--"

"--and get Drizzt blown up," Zedric finished for her. "Did you miss the 'hapless' portion of my description?"

Corey shrugged. "He's their responsibility."

"I thought you said he was my responsibility."

Corey waved her hand dismissively. "Past is past. Now go teach your pet drow how to wear clothes."

* * *

The Fuzzy Quarterstaff was filled with Harpells. Almost the entire family of wizards was present, all clustered around circular tables that were clustered around the circular bar in the center of the room. At the bar, in the bartender's stead, stood Harkle, swallowing like a fish and tapping his fingertips together with speed reminiscent of a hummingbird.

The Harpells, curious as to why Harkle had called them here, whispered excitedly amongst themselves. Harkle cleared his throat.

"Well!" he said, and the room fell silent. He swallowed again. "Well, well!"

"Well?" murmured one wizard.

"Well!" another answered.

The room was soon filled with shouts of "Well!" going back and forth. It took some time for Harkle to regain control.

"What I mean to say is," he cried over the din, "Well met!"

"WELL MET!" the entire room chorused back at him.

"Thank you," Harkle muttered, blushing furiously. He cleared his throat once more and launched into the speech he had prepared. "I have gathered together the wildest, weirdest, and most wonderful wizards that one could know--"

There was a smattering of applause; Harkle waved his hands in the air to quell it.

"--I have gathered them together so that I may impart dreadful news."

The tension in the room shifted slightly from excited and eager to anxious and apprehensive. Harkle cleared his throat for a third time.

"Earlier today, I had the dreadful misfortune of..." He licked his lips. "Of..." He couldn't continue. He craned his neck over the crowd, looking for support.

"Making Drizzt Do'Urden disappear," Catti-brie growled from her spot leaning against the wall next to the silent orchestra.

Several wizards gasped. Some applauded but were quickly shushed by their companions.

"Where is he?" one wizard shouted, elated by the prospect of advancement in magical technique.

Harkle bit his lip. "To my knowledge, he has not been rendered invisible," he explained. "And so I must conclude that Drizzt Do'Urden is no longer here."

The questioning wizard's grin turned into a pout.

Harkle clasped his hands behind his back to stop his fingertapping and went on. "I recited an incantation, bungled said incantation, and when the smoke cleared, all that remained of our dear friend was a crater in my floor."

"Excellent!" cried a wizard near Catti-brie. The woman glared at him, and he winced under her gaze.

"What I mean is," the wizard mumbled, trying to explain his reasoning, "if we could analyze the technique that Harkle has developed, we need never wage war again. Enemies could simply vanish!"

Catti-brie's hand dropped casually to rest on the hilt of her sword. The wizard took the hint and shut up.

"Was he teleported?" called a voice.

"Transported?" suggested another.

"Deported?"

"Reported?"

"No, no, he was reported years ago."

"Oh, yes, I remember! DelRoy must have interviewed him for hours."

"Harpells, please!" Harkle shouted, and the room quieted again. "I haven't the faintest idea of what could possibly have happened to Drizzt Do'Urden, and that is why I am now asking for your help in resolving the matter and returning Drizzt to where he belongs."

"Have you tried the Fog of Fate?"

Harkle frowned, puzzled. "The what?"

"Nevermind," sighed the wizard who had suggested it.

"No, wait!" Catti-brie cried. "That's a plan! That is a solid plan! Let's try it!"

"Try what?" said Harkle.

"The Fog of Fate!" Catti-brie said, exasperated. "When Drizzt and I sailed upon the _Sea Sprite_ with Captain Deudermont! That was what brought ye to us, and what helped us decipher the witch's prophecy!"

"It brought me to you?" asked Harkle.

"Yes!" Catti-brie shouted. "Ye showed up in a fog and sailed with us--"

"I sailed on a ship?" said Harkle, appearing delighted at the prospect.

"YES, FOR THE LOVE OF--"

A female wizard put a hand on Catti-brie's shoulder. "He doesn't remember, m'lady. He doesn't remember a thing."

Catti-brie rounded on the other woman. "Why...?"

"It's the nature of the spell. Once he revealed its results to others, he forgot it entirely. All we know is the name."

Catti-brie gaped at her. "Didn't he write it down?"

"Yes," the wizard admitted, "and we were studying it, but then--"

Another wizard nearby nodded solemnly. "The fire..."

"My experiment," yet another wizard moaned.

Catti-brie's face met her hands and she let out a sound half-groan, half-sigh, all pained.

"The fog of what?" said Harkle, shaking his head. "Nevermind. My point is, this problem will take all our resources to solve. And solve it we must! The world is a worse place without Drizzt Do'Urden in it!"

"Here here!" chorused the Harpells.

And so the real plan-making began, with a speed that Catti-brie could not follow. The Harpells seemed to communicate only half-verbally. There was a great deal of the shouting of apparent non-sequiturs across the Fuzzy Quarterstaff, followed by cries of "Eureka!" and joyous embraces. Many wizards had taken out quills and parchment and were jotting down notes at furious speeds; one wizard's parchment ignited, but another Harpell leaned over and helped pat the fire out.

Catti-brie sighed. The Harpells were an eccentric bunch, to be sure, but with this many marvelous minds coming together, Drizzt would soon be rescued.

Or blown up.

Catti-brie sighed again.


	4. New and Exciting Foodstuffs

Drizzt did not have much trouble getting dressed. The clothing style favored by the inhabitants of this new environment seemed to be, above all, practical. The shirts were basically torso-shaped sacks that went over one's head. The underclothes were basically short pants. And the pants were pants, although the "zipper" required a little explaining. It was only after Drizzt had put on his new socks that Zedric noticed a problem.

"Oh," he said, snapping his fingers. "Shoes."

Drizzt looked down at his new outfit. The clothes hung rather loosely on his frame; he was glad for the belt that Zedric had provided.

"My boots would not do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zedric frowned, scratching his head. "I dunno. They go up pretty high. I guess we could hide them under your jeans..."

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Just a second!" Zedric called.

"Hey!" said an unmistakably female voice from the other side of the door. "You're a dude!"

Zedric swallowed nervously. "No, I'm not!" he said in the highest falsetto he could manage. Drizzt had to put a knuckle in his mouth to keep from laughing.

"Look, gay or not, this is a chick suite! You're supposed to use the public bathroom downstairs!"

"I'm not gay!" Zed protested. "And believe me, now I wish I had gone downstairs!"

"Whatever!" said the girl. "Just get out already."

Zedric shot Drizzt a nervous look. Drizzt looked around the room for an alternate escape. There was a curtain in front of the shower that he could hide behind, but if the girl intended to bathe he would quickly be discovered. Other than that, the room was a prison of grimy yellow tile, containing only a sink, a mirror, and what Zedric had explained as a "toilet."

"Go away and then I'll get out!" Zedric said.

"What?"

"I said-"

"I heard you!" the girl shouted. "I'm not going away! I've got more right than you have to be here!"

"You've got enough spare time to stand outside this door all night?" Zed challenged.

There was a lengthy pause. "All right," the girl finally responded. "I'm leaving."

Zedric moved to open the door but Drizzt stopped him with a hand on the young man's wrist.

"She's trying to trick you," the drow muttered.

"What?" Zed whispered back.

"No footsteps," said Drizzt.

Zedric cursed himself for being so stupid. "Well, now what?"

Drizzt shrugged. "I could hide in the bath while you exit, then leave when she does."

Zedric appeared horrified at the suggestion. "Dude, if you get caught hiding in here, she is going to make a scene."

The drow smirked. "If I get caught." He had no lecherous intentions, but it seemed as though there was little other choice.

Zedric sighed and turned back to the door. "Look, will you just go away?"

"I did!"

Zedric smacked his forehead. "Let me guess, you're a business major?""Biology, jackass. Open the door!"

"No!"

"You can't stay in there forever!"

"Just watch us!"

As the word left his mouth, Zedric realized his mistake. He blushed furiously. Drizzt eyed the shower curtain.

"...us?" said the girl. "There's more than one... Oh God!"

"It's not like that!" Zed protested.

"Oh God! Ew! Ew! Ew ew ew! Oh my God, that is so... eurgh!" Her footfalls were clearly audible as she fled down the hallway and slammed her door.

"Homophobic bitch," Zedric muttered as he opened the door.

Drizzt followed Zedric down the hall back to Leigh and Corey's room. "We did escape," he pointed out, "and more quickly than we might have otherwise."

Zedric shrugged. "Whatever," he said, knocking on the door to gain entry. While he waited for one of the girls to acknowledge his existence, he turned back to Drizzt. "I have to go back to my room soon, but Corey should be able to handle any more... situations that come up. Oh!" he added just as the door opened. "And if you're hungry, tell her. She's not great at picking up subtleties."

"Because you're so subtle," Corey said, opening the door wide to let them in. "Hi, Drizzt. Bye, Zed."

"See ya," Zedric said, turning on his heel and heading back down the hall. Corey shut the door behind him.

"Hey, Leigh," said Corey. "Wanna go to Rez?"

Leigh looked up from her computer, her face slack with apathy. "Not really."

Corey shrugged. "Suit yourself." She turned to Drizzt. "I like your outfit. Wanna go eat?"

Drizzt nodded, smiling. "Thank you. I'd be delighted."

To Drizzt's surprise, Corey frowned, putting a hand to her chin in a thoughtful gesture. Without speaking, she snapped her fingers and dashed off to her closet, emerging shortly with a green bandanna and a pair of spectacles with dark lenses.

"You'll need these," was her only explanation. Drizzt understood completely, taking the items from her. He tied the bandanna over his hair, making sure that the cloth covered most of his ears. It wasn't a comfortable headpiece, but it served its purpose. The spectacles weren't confusing, exactly, but they weren't anything Drizzt had seen before either. He put them on and witnessed his surroundings turning several shades darker. The room now looked to be lit by candles, and Corey appeared to have a severe tan.

"Sunglasses," Corey said, noting Drizzt's mildly puzzled expression. "Okay, we're going now!" she called to Leigh's side of the room. Leigh didn't bother looking up from her computer. With a shrug, Corey led the way out of the dorm room.

The sun was just setting as they got outside. Drizzt was glad to note that Corey was leading him in a westerly direction, so he could watch the sunset as they walked. The outdoor air lacked the scent of garbage that had pervaded the building, but it still felt dirty in Drizzt's throat, almost sooty. He coughed a little.

"You okay?" Corey asked, looking back at him.

Drizzt nodded. "Fine," he said. "It's just... the air here."

Corey frowned, then took a deep breath. "Seems fine to me," she said, shrugging and turning back around.

Soon they reached another building, one nearly identical in style and material to the one they had just left. Drizzt could see other humans approaching the building from all directions.

"This is Rez," Corey said, flinging her left arm out to gesture at the building. "Short for Residential Dining Hall."

Drizzt nodded, stifling another cough. Corey began rifling through the pockets of her pants.

"I should have a guest pass left on my card," she said, producing a small rectangle of thick, shiny paper.

"May I see that?" said Drizzt, pointing to the card. "For just a moment."

"Sure," Corey said with a casual shrug. She handed it over.

The texture of the card reminded Drizzt of the bag that had held his new socks. Looking at it more closely, he saw that it had a miniature portrait of Corey on it, perfect in its likeness of her. Next to the portrait were some runes and a series of vertical black bars of varying widths.

"This is money?" Drizzt guessed, handing the card back to Corey.

The girl shrugged again. "Kind of. It's got money on it."

"Who paints the portraits?" Drizzt asked.

Corey looked confused, then glanced at the card. "Oh! The picture! That's not a painting, it's a photograph."

"And a photograph is...?"

"Uh," said Corey, continuing her walk towards the building. "Okay, there's this little black box, right? Well, sometimes they're gray or silver or whatever, but the point is there's this little box--" she held out her hands to demonstrate its approximate size and shape, "--and it's got a hole in it, and a button on top. You aim the hole at something," she continued, miming the action, "and press the button, and the box makes a picture of whatever you're aiming it at."

"A perfect replica," Drizzt said, pondering the new information.

"Yeah. The box is called a camera, and the picture," she said, waving her card, "is a photograph. Or a photo, for short."

Drizzt stepped ahead of Corey to open the door of the building for her. Corey raised an eyebrow but went in ahead of him, putting a hand on the door to hold it open while he entered.

"With these photos," he said as she passed by him, "is there any need for portraitists? Painters?"

"Oh, hell yeah," Corey laughed, leading Drizzt up a set of stairs to a landing. On the landing was a desk with a metal box on it; behind the desk stood an older woman. Younger humans lined up in front of the desk, one by one handing over their cards. The woman took the cards and pulled them through a slit in the box, then handed the cards back to the humans. With cards back in hands, the humans turned and headed up yet another set of stairs.

Drizzt couldn't help making a face. The inside of "Rez" smelled like grease. The air was thick with it. He stifled yet another cough with his fist.

"You sure you're okay?" Corey asked, advancing in line and handing her card over to the woman.

"Fine," Drizzt said hoarsely.

"Oh!" said Corey to the woman. "Can I use a guest pass?"

The woman frowned, tapped the box (which, Drizzt was now able to see, had a keyboard of its own), and pulled the card through the slit again. "You've got two left," the woman warned, handing the card back to Corey.

Corey grinned. "Thanks!" she said in a singsong tone. Beckoning to Drizzt, she skipped up the next set of stairs.

The air up here was, if possible, even thicker. Worse yet, it was hot. And humid. Drizzt looked around. They were in a huge chamber, filled with tables and chairs, rather like the lower floor of a typical inn, but on a much larger scale. Along the wall on the opposite side of the room was a bar, apparently devoted solely to food rather than drink.

"Come on," Corey said, walking ahead towards the bar. "It's all you can eat," she said.

"All you can eat?" Drizzt repeated, hoping for clarification. He tugged on the collar of his new shirt. He could feel himself starting to sweat.

"Yeah," said Corey. "You just pay to get in--" she pointed back at the staircase they had just climbed, "--and once you're in, you eat as much as you can. Or want," she said, noticing Drizzt's grimace. "You don't _have_ to stuff yourself senseless."

Drizzt nodded. They were at the left end of the bar now, at the end of another line of humans, next to a stack of trays. Corey picked one up, and Drizzt followed her lead. It felt rather like the card had, only with an added layer of grease. Drizzt winced, mildly disgusted.

The line moved forward. They were at the bar itself now, and Drizzt found himself staring down platter after platter of greasy foodstuffs in varying shades of brown.

"Pick whatever you want," Corey said, reaching forward to select a halved roll of bread with wilting lettuce sticking out from between the two halves.

Drizzt looked at the food in front of him, then at the bar ahead. It all looked equally distasteful. Reminding himself that he had eaten much worse things, he grabbed a roll of the same variety that Corey had picked.

The line continued moving forward at a slow but steady pace. Corey filled her tray with a pile of yellow-brown sticks, a bowlful of brown mash, and a brown, apple-shaped piece of fruit. At the very end of the bar was a large crate filled with bottles. Corey picked out a green-brown one. Drizzt could not tell the difference in the bottles' contents from their outer shapes, and went with what Corey had picked. Leaving the line, Corey lead Drizzt to a smaller table with four chairs. They sat down, facing each other.

A young man who had been in line just behind Drizzt approached them, holding his tray. Glancing at Drizzt, he spoke to Corey: "Is he blind?"

Corey swallowed the mouthful of mash she had just put into her mouth. "Ask him yourself," she said.

The man swallowed nervously before turning to Drizzt. "Are you...?

Drizzt waited a few moments to see if the young man would finish his sentence before replying, "No."

"Oh," said the young man. "Then... why are you wearing sunglasses?"

"Sensitivity to light," Corey answered before Drizzt had a chance to.

The man turned back to Corey. "I thought I was supposed to ask him."

"Yeah, well, I figure the sooner you get your answer, the sooner you'll leave." She took another bite of mash and waved a hand dismissively. The young man frowned and walked off, turning his head to look back at Drizzt.

It occurred to Drizzt that the sunglasses might be the cause of the discoloration of the food. Glancing surreptitiously from side to side, he moved them down to the tip of his nose and gave his tray another look. His guess had been partially right; the food looked a little more appetizing now, though it was still far from appealing. He replaced the sunglasses on his face and picked up the halved roll.

"That's a hamburger," Corey said, answering Drizzt's unspoken question.

"What's in--" Drizzt began.

Corey cut him off. "Bread, vegetables, meat." She picked up her own hamburger and, holding it with both hands, took a huge bite. She chewed and swallowed. "Try it, it's good."

Drizzt wondered briefly about Corey's tastes before mimicking her actions. As he'd predicted, the hamburger was very greasy, though he could taste that it did indeed contain the ingredients that Corey had listed. It also seemed to contain poison. He forced himself to swallow, reminding himself that this was food here, and he didn't want to starve.

Corey ate voraciously, quickly polishing off her bowl of mash and her pile of yellow-brown sticks, which she explained as "French fries." Drizzt found that he was reminded of Regis, though even Regis might turn his nose up at this fare.

"You can't take any of the food out with you," Corey said, opening her bottle and taking a large swig of the contents. "That's the catch. You can eat as much as you want while you're here, but once you're out, no food for you."

"And you have to pay each time you come in," said Drizzt, recognizing the basic business pattern.

"Right," said Corey, finishing her hamburger and glancing at Drizzt's tray. "You done?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Drizzt's hamburger was half-gone, and he intended to leave it that way. He felt a bit queasy. "Yes," he said.

Corey stood up, taking her tray and walking over to a stack of trays and a large barrel. She dumped what little was left of her meal into the barrel and placed the tray in the stack. Drizzt followed suit, but he hesitated when it came to tossing away his unopened drink. Corey held out her hand for it and he gave it to her; she slipped it in to the pocket on the front of her bulky shirt.

"I thought one wasn't allowed to remove any food or drink from the building," Drizzt said as Corey led the way back down the stairs.

"Oh," said Corey. "Yeah, that only applies to food. Drinks are fine to take."

"Then why are you hiding it?" Drizzt said, smirking slightly.

"I'm not _hiding_ it," said Corey. "I'm just _holding_ it. It's more convenient to have it in my pocket than to--" She abruptly stopped talking once they got within hearing distance of the woman behind the counter at the bottom of the stairs.

Drizzt chuckled and let the issue drop.

The walk back to the dorm room was uneventful. In the short time that Drizzt and Corey had been in Rez, the sun had not quite set, and Drizzt found himself glancing back several times on the journey to look at the spectacle. Vibrant pinks and oranges spread across the horizon to create an abstract image that Drizzt found quite pleasing. Glancing to his side, he saw that Corey was watching it too.

"Gorgeous," she said, nodding towards the sunset.

"Aye," said Drizzt, smiling.


	5. Planning to Learn

"Bedtime already?" Chloe asked as she pushed open the door to the dorm room. The lights were out, and Leigh stood at the foot of her bed, packing away her laptop.

"That was the plan," Leigh said. "The sun goes down, and I lie down." She paused momentarily, thinking. "Speaking of lie-downs, where's Drizzt sleeping?"

"In the tent," Corey said off-handedly, hopping on to her bed and opening her laptop."He is not," Leigh responded immediately with a scowl.

"Why not?" said Corey.

"Corey!" Leigh protested. "'The tent' is nothing more than a pile of cushions under your bed!"

Corey blushed slightly, glancing at Drizzt. "They're really comfy cushions..." she told him.

Drizzt smiled. "It's fine."

"I'm sleeping in the tent," Leigh declared.

It took Corey a moment to formulate a response. "...What?"

"I did laundry this morning," said Leigh, grabbing her nightclothes out of a drawer and stepping into her closet to change, closing the door behind her. "My sheets are clean, and I've slept in the tent before. Drizzt can have my bed and I'll sleep under you."

"I don't want to be a bother," said Drizzt.

"You're not," Leigh reassured him. She emerged from the closet and pointed at Corey. "She's a bother, but you're not."

Corey scowled fiercely, crossing her arms over her chest. "You just want the tent for yourself because it's so comfy!" she said.

It was Leigh's turn to blush. She didn't have a response to Corey's accusation.

Drizzt took it upon himself to dismiss the awkward silence. "If you insist," he said, "I shall take the bed." He bowed slightly. "Thank you."

Leigh blushed even more and muttered, "No problem." She crossed the room, lifted the sheets that hung off the edge of Corey's bed, and crawled into the tent. "Goodnight."

"'Night," said Corey, still focusing intently on the screen of her laptop.

Mere minutes passed before Leigh started to snore. During those minutes, Drizzt had crossed over to Leigh's side of the room and sat on her bed, feeling queasier by the minute.

Corey looked up from her laptop. "Zed didn't get you any pajamas, did he?"

"Any what?" Drizzt asked.

"Pajamas," Corey repeated. "Sleepy-time clothes."

Drizzt looked to the bag Zedric had brought him, still on Corey's side of the room. "No," he said, "I suppose he didn't."

"Meh," said Corey. "We can work around that. Most guys just sleep in their boxers anyway."

Drizzt nodded, trying to pay attention to what Corey was saying, knowing that it was probably important information about how to survive in this new world, but his mind kept wandering back to the sick feeling in his stomach.

A high-pitched chirping filled the room. Corey reacted immediately, her hand diving into her pocket and retrieving a small, metallic box. She opened it along a split down its middle and pressed it to the side of her face.

"Hello?" she said.

Drizzt dimly heard what could have been a human voice coming from the object, but it was hard to decipher through the chirps and buzzing. Corey seemed to understand the voice easily.

"Oh, nothing much," she was saying. "I've got some. Sure. Meet by the big rock? All right, see ya."

She pulled the open box away from her face and shut it, smiling.

"I'm going out," she said to Drizzt, heading over to her closet and pulling out a hooded jacket.

Drizzt nodded again to indicate that he had, indeed, heard her. Corey seemed satisfied and left the room without another word.

Now it was just Drizzt and the sleeping Leigh left in the room. Drizzt, while nauseated, did not feel tired. He glanced around the room for something to distract himself with. His gaze stopped on Leigh's desk, where there was a tome that he recognized as being the one Merlin had been reading earlier in the day. Stealthily, so as not to wake Leigh, he picked the book up from the desk and read the runes on the cover.

The Once and Future King. Drizzt presumed the book's subject to be history. He opened it and began to read.

* * *

"We've sent a message out to the Lady Alustriel of Silverymoon," Harkle reported. "We felt that she would want to be involved in this."

Catti-brie nodded numbly, exhausted. Drizzt hadn't yet been gone six hours, but the preliminary findings of the Harpells' research did not look promising. They expected it to be at least a week before he was returned.

"Plus," Harkle added brightly, hoping to put a smile on the woman's face, "she is a skilled wizard herself! Her magics are legendary!"

Cattie-brie nodded again, her eyes glazing over. They tended to do that now every time Harkle opened his mouth.

"And we have sent out a bulletin," Harkle went on, oblivious to Catti-brie's exhaustion, "informing every known magical conglomeration of the situation at hand, and asking very nicely for their aid." He clapped his hands together. "We expect multiple responses by the morning! We've already had a few, and they seem quite eager to help."

"Good," Catti-brie muttered, rubbing her forehead. The Harpells were absent-minded but kindly, and for the most part she wasn't bothered by them. But today had not been an ordinary day by any stretch of the imagination.

Harkle frowned, cocking his head to the side. "Are you well, m'lady?"

"Fine," said Catti-brie hurriedly. "I'm fine."

"Perhaps you should rest," Harkle suggested.

Catti-brie nodded again. "Yes, rest. Perhaps I should." With that, she stood up from her chair in the Fuzzy Quarterstaff, bid the Harpells good night, and retired to her chambers.

* * *

Drizzt opened his eyes. The Once and Future King lay pages-down on his chest; he had fallen asleep while reading it. He could see a Corey-shaped lump sleeping atop the bed on the other side of the room, and he could still hear Leigh's snores.

He glanced around the room for a clock or some other indication of time. There was a glowing device displaying numbers on Leigh's desk, but only three of them, and no hands.

Ignoring the subject of time for the moment, Drizzt reflected on why he had woken at this odd hour. His stomach provided the answer.

Drizzt groaned, putting a hand over his mouth and closing his eyes briefly. He did his stoic best to ignore the nausea and try to remember what he had learned about his surroundings. He knew that Leigh and Corey's bedroom was not an appropriate place to vomit. With a spark of insight, he remembered the bathroom down the hall, where he'd been trapped with Zedric scant hours ago.

Drizzt stood and walked towards the door, opening it as quietly as possible and closing it behind him.

Less than a minute later, Drizzt sat in front of the toilet, his hands gripping the seat as he gasped for breath. He could not remember the last time he'd been this violently ill. Now he knew he had not imagined the poison he'd tasted in his meal. But who would want to poison him? Who in this entirely new world would want him dead already? Had he made any enemies?

The questions were forcefully driven from his mind as he bent over the toilet and heaved. Over the sound of his own illness, he heard the creak of the door opening; he berated himself for forgetting to lock it in his rush to be sick.

"You okay?"

It was Leigh, standing in the doorway and appearing quite concerned. Drizzt was in no position to answer. Leigh crossed the room and help him hold his hair back as he heaved again, then sat back, eyes closed, hardly able to believe the pain that this world's food was able to put him through.

There was the sound of water running through pipes and into the sink. Leigh put a hand on his shoulder and held out a cup of water.

"Here," she said. "Have a drink, or just wash out your mouth."

Drizzt accepted and chose the second course of action, spitting the water into the toilet.

Leigh sat on the floor next to Drizzt. Now that he was finished being sick, he could see that her hair, short as it was, was doing its darndest to reach the ceiling.

"Rez food's a bitch, huh?" said Leigh, leaning back against the tile wall.

Drizzt nodded, swallowing what remained of the water in an attempt to wash the sick taste from his throat. "Aye," he croaked.

"You done?" Leigh asked after a few more moments had gone by.

Drizzt smiled weakly and nodded. Leigh helped him to stand and together they went back to the dorm room. Drizzt sat himself in Corey's chair while Leigh stepped into the closet on her side of the room. She emerged dressed in a shirt and pants similar to what Drizzt had worn the previous evening.

"Sorry for waking you," Drizzt said quietly.

"You didn't," Leigh assured him, cocking her head towards the window. "Mr. Sun's to blame."

Drizzt raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a morning person," Leigh elaborated, grabbing a brush out of a drawer and using it to tame her sky-reaching hair. "And it's a damn good thing, too. I've got an eight-o'-clock class every day." She pointed towards the numeral light on her desk. Drizzt's guess had been correct; it was a timepiece. He made a mental note to ask Corey how to read it once she woke up.

"When are Corey's classes?" Drizzt asked.

"I think her first one's around noon," said Leigh, picking up her bag from where she'd dropped it the night before. "But if you feel sick again, by all means wake her up. Oh, and there's ginger ale in the fridge." She pointed to an upright metal trunk in the corner of the room. "Hope you feel better," she said, stepping out the door.

"Thank you," said Drizzt. Leigh nodded, smiled, and was gone.

* * *

Zedric sat in the lecture hall, enjoying a comic book while waiting for the professor to arrive. It was seven o' clock in the morning. The class didn't start until eight. The professor never got there earlier than eight-thirty. Still, despite the anticipated hour-and-a-half wait, Zedric found that munching on carrot sticks while reading a comic book in an empty lecture hall was preferable to sitting in the dark of his dorm room, being absolutely silent so as not to wake his three hostile roommates. And honestly, living with those three behemoths had given Zedric a whole new appreciation for spending time alone.

So it was rather surprising to find his best friend's roommate occupying the space with him.

"Good morning, Leigh," said Zedric around a mouthful of carrot.

"Morning," Leigh replied, climbing over several rows of seats to sit in one directly behind Zed.

"You're up early," said Zedric, folding down the page of his comic and putting it back into his bag.

"Drizzt woke me up," said Leigh. "But don't tell him I told you that."

Zedric raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, drow were silent as the grave in their movements. "How'd he wake you up?"

"By vomiting."

"What!?" Zedric turned completely around in his seat, giving Leigh his full attention. "What happened? Is he okay?"

Now it was Leigh's turn to be skeptical and confused. "As far as I know, he's fine. Got it all out of his system. Why do you care?"

"Because," Zed bluffed, "if I didn't care about the suffering of others, I'd be dead inside."

"One of your roommates got hit in the face with a broken bottle last Thursday," said Leigh. "As I recall, you couldn't breathe for laughing."

"Yeah, well, Tony's an asshole," said Zedric. "He deserved it. Does Drizzt have the flu?"

"Some Rez food didn't agree with him, that's all," Leigh said impatiently. "Like I said, it's all out of his system now."

Zedric blinked twice, then gathered up his bag and began climbing over the seat rows.

"Where're you going?" Leigh asked.

"Forgot some stuff in my room," said Zedric. "Tell Professor Frank I'm sorry."

"What, you're not coming back?"

"Might not," said Zed, jogging out the door. "Bye!"

Leigh sighed, taking her notebook out of her bag. With an hour and a half to kill, and no one to talk to, she might as well do her homework.

* * *

Drizzt was considering going back to sleep when there came a knocking at Corey's door.

"Open up!" shouted the person on the other side, banging on the door. "Damnit, Corey, wake the fuck up and--"

Drizzt crossed the room and opened the door, blocking Zedric's fist with his palm.

"Oh," said Zed. "Um... Good morning, Drizzt."

"Well met," Drizzt replied, releasing Zedric's fist and walking back over to Leigh's side of the room to sit on the edge of the bed. Zedric closed the door behind him before going to stand by Corey's bed.

"Are you asleep?" he asked.

"I was," said Corey. "But now I'm just angry. You might want to back off."

Zedric took a step back, remembering what Leigh's jaw had looked like after the one time she'd tried to wake up her roommate.

Corey sat up and looked around, holding her comforter up over her chest. She glared at Zedric.

"I haven't even showered," she grumbled. "What do you want?"

"Rez?" said Zedric.

Corey frowned. "You don't eat there."

"Ever wonder why?" Zedric went on, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because you're a tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping, vegan-weirdo hippie?" Corey guessed.

"Because it'd kill me, that's why!" said Zedric, throwing his arms over his head.

"What's your point?"

"The point is you took Drizzt to Rez last night."

"So?" Corey yawned. "Just because you're a neo-pagan pansy when it comes to food, doesn't mean he is."

"Actually," Drizzt began, then trailed off. Both Corey and Zedric gave him their full attention.

Drizzt swallowed. "I'm afraid your food makes me ill."

"Since when?" asked Corey.

"Since I ate it," Drizzt answered dryly.

"...Oh," said Corey. "Sorry about that."

Drizzt held up a hand. "I'm fine now."

Zedric had taken off his backpack and set it down on Corey's red chair. He opened it and pulled out a bag full of carrots. He walked across the room and handed it to Drizzt.

"If you ever feel hungry again," he explained. "These won't kill you."

"Thank you," said Drizzt, taking the bag from him. It felt much like the bag that had held his socks.

Zedric glared at Corey. "Unlike Rez food."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" Corey said.

"By thinking about it? Do you have any idea how poisoned your food is?"

Corey waved a hand. "Yeah, over-processed carcinogens, I get it. Heard it all before. One guy even gave me a pamphlet."

"You're free to scoff," said Zedric. "You've grown up eating the stuff. Me and Drizzt, we're totally unused to it. We just can't handle it."

"Could you argue a little quieter, please?" said Drizzt. His violent illness had given him a headache that Corey and Zedric's feuding was not helping.

"Sorry," both teenagers said together. There was a moment of silence while they glared at each other.

"What is this?" said Drizzt, holding up the bag.

"Carrots," said Corey. "Vegetables. Edible."

"I meant the bag," said Drizzt, smiling slightly.

"Oh," said Corey.

"That's plastic," said Zedric. "It's what they use to make almost everything." He pushed his bag off of Corey's chair and sat down. "It's pretty versatile. It can be hard or soft, and it lasts practically forever."

"Don't light it on fire," said Corey.

Drizzt raised an eyebrow at her. "I wasn't planning on it," he said.

"Just figured I'd throw that out there," she explained herself with a shrug. "The fumes'll kill ya."

"Seems everything is fatal here," said Drizzt, setting the bag back down on the bed.

Corey cocked her head to the side and stared at the ceiling. "Pretty much," she said after a moment's contemplation.

"It's a dangerous place," Zedric agreed.

"How did you end up here?" Drizzt asked him.

Zedric looked to the side and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a long story," he said.

"I have time," said Drizzt.

"I don't," said Corey, hopping out of bed. She gathered some things out of her closet and left the room abruptly. "Shower," was the only explanation she offered.

Zedric coughed, but didn't answer Drizzt's question.

"Are you human?" Drizzt asked, trying again.

"Half," said Zedric. "Half-elf." He removed his bandanna, revealing ears that came to a slight tip, not quite as long or severe as Drizzt's.

"But you weren't born here," Drizzt went on.

"No," Zedric sighed, re-tying his bandanna. "I came here from Waterdeep about three years ago."

"And how...?"

"Fell. Through a portal in the water."

"How did you fall?"

"I didn't fall so much as jump."

Drizzt frowned, curious. Zedric sighed again.

"I was a fuck-up. A real piece of work. And I didn't have any excuse, really. My parents were reasonably wealthy merchants, I had everything going for me, but I just couldn't make it work. I just got sick of being a failure, so I jumped into the harbor."

"You expected to die," said Drizzt.

"Hoped," said Zedric. "At least until I hit the water, where I got a strong-as-hell urge to live. Couldn't reach the surface for the longest time, and when I finally did..." Zedric shrugged. "I wasn't in Waterdeep anymore, that was for sure."

"A new land," Drizzt concluded. "A second chance."

Zedric snapped his fingers. "Hit the nail on the head. And really, compared to Faerûn? This place isn't so hard to live in. Fewer orc attacks, for one thing, and by 'fewer' I mean 'none.'"

Drizzt smirked. "But the food is poison."

"Most of it. You can find non-poisonous stuff if you know where to look."

"And the air?" Drizzt asked.

Zedric grimaced. "There is that. It gets better when you get away from the cities. We're pretty close to the city here."

Drizzt nodded, absorbing the new information. There was hope for survival here; Zedric was living proof of that. Drizzt stuck his hand in the bag and pulled out a carrot, tentatively biting down on it. Tasting none of the poisons that had been in his burger, he ate heartily.

Zedric smiled. "How about a tour of campus once you're finished with those?"

"Aye," said Drizzt. He realized that he still had much to learn about this new place if he was to live long enough to see Faerûn again.


	6. Learning

Corey spread her arms out wide, spinning around and enjoying the sensation of all the blood in her arms rushing to her fingertips.

"This," she cried out, still spinning, "is a parking lot!"

Drizzt couldn't help chuckling at Corey's demonstration. "Am I required to spin as well?" he asked.

"No," Zedric said quickly, glancing around to the edges of the lot for witnesses. There seemed to be none, but you never could tell. This particular parking lot, one of about a dozen on campus, was surrounded on three sides by woods that served as a popular hangout for underaged students and their illicit activities.

Corey stopped spinning, stumbling around for a bit and holding her head until the dizziness went away. "And these," she said, hopping over to a vehicle vaguely resembling the one that had greeted Drizzt upon his arrival, "are cars."

"Cars," Drizzt repeated.

"Also called automobiles or autos," Zedric added. "There are different kinds, too." He pointed to the car that Corey was leaning against. "The shorter, sleeker ones are just cars, whereas those--" he pointed to another vehicle that stood higher off the ground and had a boxier look to it, "--are trucks."

"Or vans," said Corey. "Or SUVs."

"Ess-you-veez?" said Drizzt.

"Stands for Sport Utility Vehicle," Zedric said.

Drizzt shook his head. So far, the tour of the campus had lasted two hours, and they'd just barely gotten out of the dorm building. (Or residency, or dormitory, depending on who you were talking to.) Almost every object, situation, or person that they encountered on their tour had multiple names and dozens of purposes. Drizzt was starting to doubt his own ability to remember it all.

"How do they work?" he asked Zedric.

"Umm," said Zed, looking to Corey for help.

Corey rolled her eyes. "Internal combustion engine. I've told you a billion times, Zed."

"But it still doesn't make any _sense_," Zedric protested.

Corey took a deep breath, and launched into her explanation. "Gasoline is a flammable liquid. It's stored in a tank under the car. A battery makes a spark that ignites the gasoline, causing the pistons to move up and down and the engine to turn over and generate power to turn the wheels."

Zedric made a whooshing noise, passing his hand over his head.

Corey glared at him. "The right pedal is go, the left pedal is stop, and 'R' means backwards. Simple enough for you?" She paused, then turned to Drizzt, a wicked smile forming on her face. "Or should we do a live demonstration?"

Drizzt smiled in return. "Perhaps later."

* * *

"We've done it!"

Catti-brie was awakened from her slumber by Harkle Harpell bursting into her chambers. She pulled the covers up over her chest as she stared at the impertinent wizard.

"What?" was all she could say.

"M'lady!" said Harkle. "We've done it! We've figured out how I sent Drizzt away!"

Catti-brie blinked, then jumped out of bed, running over to grab Harkle by his shoulders. "And we can get him back?" she asked.

"Maybe!" Harkle replied with a gleeful grin.

Catti-brie's hopeful expression died. "Maybe?" she repeated, letting go of the wizard.

Harkle backed away from her. "Well, you see, now that we know how I did it in the first place, we can do it again."

Catti-brie raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly would that be helpful?"

"We can send someone after him to bring him back," said Harkle. "All we have to do is give them an item enchanted to open a portal back to the Ivy Mansion once they've found Drizzt and spoken the word of command!"

It took a moment for the wizard's explanation to sink it, but as soon as it did, Catti-brie sprung into action. Within seconds, she had grabbed her belt and sword and begun to put her pants on under her nightshirt.

"...My lady?" Harkle asked tentatively.

"Ye're sendin' someone after him," Catti-brie said, putting on her belt and turning her back to the wizard, not wasting precious time on modesty.

"But--" Harkle protested, his face reddening.

"Ye know how to do it, right?" said Catti-brie, pulling her nightshirt over her head and tossing it violently aside. Harkle gave a startled squeak and hurriedly covered his eyes before answering her question.

"Yes," he said, "we've spent all morning perfecting the process--"

"So ye can do it as soon as ye're asked?" she said, putting on a shirt and turning back around as she did up the last button.

"Yes, but it's still a risky process, and--"

"I dinnae care," Catti-brie declared, pulling her hair back out of her face and tying it with a leather cord. Ready for action, she put her hands on her hips and stared Harkle down. "Ye're sendin' me wherever Drizzt is so I can bring him back. Now."

Harkle slowly pulled his hands away from his face. "But m'lady, your father..."

"What about him?" Catti-brie growled.

"...he'd kill me," Harkle finished weakly.

"I'll kill ye right now," Catti-brie warned, putting a hand to the hilt of her sword. Then she remembered why she was upset, and relaxed. Drizzt would surely be disappointed in her behavior if he could see her now. That, or amused. Either way, hurting a friend wouldn't get Drizzt back to her any faster.

Harkle, on the other hand, stood taller, his hands formed into fists by his sides. He was a powerful wizard in his own right, and he didn't have to take being pushed around like this.

"My lady," he said sternly, "I am the only person who can help Drizzt now, so if--"

His voice squeaked; he quickly cleared his throat before continuing.

"--if you don't mind, perhaps you'd best listen to me before making threats?"Catti-brie sighed, smiling. "O' course, Harkle. What's yer plan?"

Harkle beamed. "We've sent out messages to several promising candidates with experience in both the use of magical items and rescuing people. Two have responded, and should be here by this evening, ready to go."

"But I'll not be goin' with them," Catti-brie finished for him, her smile faded.

Harkle shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Catti-brie sighed again, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Because o' me father."

"That, and..." Harkle struggled to form his reasoning into a verbal explanation. "Mercenaries, highly skilled as they are, are expendable. Not that we expect anything to go wrong, of course! But just in case..."

Catti-brie nodded. "Me father'd be upset if I went missin', too."

"So would Drizzt," Harkle added, and then more quietly, "...so would I."

Catti-brie looked up at him, only to see that he was already on his way out the door.

"The mercenaries will be here by nightfall," he called over his shoulder. "Fret not, m'lady! Drizzt will be back sooner than any of us had hoped!"

* * *

"Oh, shit," said Zedric, stopping dead in his tracks. Drizzt and Corey turned back to look at him, puzzled.

"What's up?" said Corey.

Zedric struggled to get something out of his pocket. "I think I'm missing a class..."

"Uh, duh," Corey scoffed. Zedric glared at her, and finally removed a metallic box similar to the one Drizzt had seen Corey use the night before. He glanced at its surface and uttered more profanities before replacing it into his pocket.

"Let me rephrase," he said. "_We're_ missing a class."

"Anything I care about?" Corey asked.

"Colloquium?" said Zedric.

"OH SHIT!" said Corey. Without another word of explanation, she whirled around and sprinted down the path past a bewildered Drizzt.

"What's Colloquium?" the drow asked, running beside Zedric and after Corey.

"Lecture," Zedric gasped. "On art."

Drizzt was apprehensive. The last lecture he had attended had been on the evils of the surface world. It had also been a vile pack of lies forced on him by the followers of Lolth. He hoped that his new acquaintances hadn't fallen into similar trouble, and if they had, he hoped that they were free-minded enough to see past the lies.

A faint buzzing filled the air. Drizzt recognized it as the same sound he had heard last night in Corey's room. Zedric began to struggle with his pocket again, his efforts made doubly difficult by the fact that he was still running. Finally, he stopped in his tracks to retrieve the metallic box. He flipped it open and pressed it to the side of his head.

"Hello, Leigh," he said.

Drizzt was close enough to hear at least Zedric's side of the conversation, having stopped halfway between the boy and Corey. Corey hadn't stopped at all; Drizzt couldn't see where she had gone.

"Yes, I know what time it is," Zedric was saying. "We're on our way. ...Well, we wouldn't be late if you hadn't called! Yes, I can run and talk at the same time, but... Goodbye, Leigh." Zedric snapped the box shut with one hand and put it back in his pocket.

"What is that?" Drizzt asked as they started to run again.

"What's what?" Zedric gasped.

"The talking box," said Drizzt.

"A cell phone," said Zedric. "Look, can we talk about this later?"

They ran along the same road that Drizzt had first appeared on, towards a cluster of buildings that looked nearly identical to the dorm. At first glance, it would seem that the architect of this settlement had no imagination whatsoever; every building presented itself as a giant gray brick. Drizzt's closer examination of the buildings they ran past revealed that there were some variations, mostly in the form of staircases and balconies. Still, the effort of differentiating between the structures dizzied him, or perhaps that was just the poor quality of the air.

Zedric seemed to have no such difficulty telling which building was which. He made a beeline for a building at the far end of the cluster. Drizzt had to slow down to avoid running ahead of the half-elf, who was obviously laboring for breath.

They ran right up to the building, and Drizzt slowed down further to avoid smacking himself against the glass doors. Zedric, to Drizzt's bewilderment, did not slow down in the least. Drizzt considered shouting a warning, but before he could, Zedric was at the doors...

...and through them.

Drizzt blinked. The doors had opened for Zedric to pass through, and then shut themselves after him.

The drow approached the doors cautiously. He was little more than a pace away from them when they slid apart from each other, disappearing into the walls.

Drizzt wasn't sure how much time he had to pass between them. He wasted none of it, leaping through the doorway and landing with a roll on the other side. The doors slid shut behind him.

"Woo!"

"All right!"

"Way to go!"

"That was awesome!"

Shouts and cheers echoed from all around the drow as he crouched on the floor of the building. Slowly, he stood up and looked around. Not five paces away from him was a stone bench, upon which several young humans were seated. Seeing him stand, they started clapping and laughing. Drizzt was not sure of what would be considered an appropriate reaction.

"You a freerunner?" one of the humans asked, a young man with wide blue eyes and bolts running through his lips.

Drizzt was at a loss. The young man's grammar and vocabulary were completely unfamiliar and almost devoid of meaning.

"I am a freelance bodyguard," Drizzt finally responded.

The humans responded with raised eyebrows.

"Wow," said one of the females, laughing nervously.

Drizzt glanced around further, trying to ascertain where Zedric had gone. He was about to ask the group of humans on the bench when he heart another shout.

"Drizzt?" Zedric's voice came drifting up a stone staircase.

With a curt nod to his new admirers, Drizzt fled down the stairs.

"What took you so long?" Zedric grumbled, waiting at the base of the stairs with his arms crossed.

"The doors," was the only explanation Drizzt had time to offer before Zedric led him through the first door in the hallway.

The chamber they were in now was huge compared to anything else Drizzt had seen in this new world. The ceiling was high, and from where he and Zedric now stood, the floor sloped sharply downward to end what looked like a whole story down. There was a narrow staircase on either side of the room, and between the two staircases were row upon row of chairs. These chairs were filled with humans, and their chatter echoed off of the ceiling.

Zedric squinted at the crowd briefly before tapping Drizzt on the shoulder and trotting down one of the staircases. He stopped at very bottom of the stairs and slid into the first row to come before a small stage. The stage was now empty. In the first row, Drizzt recognized Corey and Leigh.

"You guys are slow," Corey said as Drizzt followed Zedric into the row of chairs and sat beside him.

"Somebody was playing mother hen," Zedric grumbled, glaring at Leigh.

"I don't like sitting alone!" Leigh protested, glancing back up at all the other students in the room. "It makes me look like more of a loser than I already am."

"You're not a loser," a fourth voice squeaked from the floor. Drizzt looked under the chairs to see Merlin lying on her stomach beneath them.

"Hello!" she said brightly, waving at the drow.

"What are you doing here?" said Zedric, now also looking under his chair.

"Listenin'," Merlin answered.

"This is an art lecture!" Zedric said. "You're an English major!"

"Should I be hiding as well?" Drizzt asked.

"No," said Corey. "She's just being weird." She gestured back up at the rest of the students. "There are plenty of people here who aren't in this class."

"But why are they here?" asked Drizzt.

"To hear the voice of a god," said Leigh, staring dreamily at the empty stage.

Drizzt shot a concerned glance at Corey. "A god?" he said.

"She's speakin' figuratively," Merlin's voice answered his question. "She means the professor is very popular."

"Ah," said Drizzt. He settled back into his chair, his fears allayed. Well, most of them. He still didn't know what the lecture was about. Zedric's earlier answer, "art," had been hopelessly vague.

Before Drizzt could worry more, the professor arrived. He was a short man, perhaps a few inches taller than Drizzt. His appearance was almost entirely unremarkable: brown hair, brown eyes, average features, light-brown skin. He walked to the very center of the stage, faced his audience, clasped his hands behind his back, and bowed.

"Good morning," said the professor after he had straightened. He smiled at his pupils. "Today's subject is beauty."

Drizzt braced himself for hate-speech, for beauty defined as sameness.

"Now, when a person thinks of beauty," the professor continued, "he or she probably thinks of something that is pleasing to the eye. A flower. A kitten."

There were grunts of assent from the crowd. Drizzt frowned, trying to figure out the professor's angle. He didn't believe the speech would be anti-flowers and -kittens.

The professor smiled mischievously.

"Of course," he said, "being artists, we must define beauty a little differently. I would define beauty as something that makes you gawk. And I would define gawking as allowing something you perceive or experience to stop your brain. Now, what makes you gawk? A flower or a kitten could do so, as could a wound, a storm, or a car crash. All are beautiful. Not pleasant, perhaps, but beautiful."

Drizzt wasn't sure he could agree with the pain of others being beautiful, but still, the professor did not seem to be a mean-spirited man, and there didn't seem to be hatred behind his words. Drizzt relaxed slightly.

"Beauty isn't always pleasant," the professor went on. "We need to separate the concept of beauty from concepts such as 'happy' and 'good.' Some of the most beautiful art in the world is indeed pleasing to the eye, but others can make you want to look away, can wreak havoc on your poor aesthetic core. These works are no less beautiful."

Drizzt found that he could understand where the man was coming from. He was able to let go of his concerns almost entirely now, and open his mind to the lecture. As the lecture continued, Drizzt learned more about the sensibilities of the new world, and of the purpose behind this school. By the end of it, he had come to the conclusion that it was nothing like the Academy he had known in Menzoberranzan.

Corey stood up and stretched. "Well, that's over with. Now, back to the tour!"

Zedric stood as well. Merlin crawled out from under the chairs and brushed the dirt and dust off of her clothes. A great deal of it remained on her face. Drizzt followed Zed and the others out of the lecture hall, pausing as the enormous groups of students congested in their efforts to get through one small door. Looking behind him, Drizzt saw that Leigh hadn't even stood up; she was still taking notes.

"What about..." he started to ask. Zedric turned around at the sound of the drow's voice and saw the girl as well.

"Hey, Leigh!" he shouted past Drizzt. The drow winced at the assault on his sensitive ears.

Leigh looked up and around for the source of the yell. "Don't distract me!" she shouted back. "I'm almost done!"

"Whatever," said Corey, tugging Merlin up the staircase. "She'll catch up."

Eventually, the crowd cleared, and Drizzt's group was able to exit the room. They were greeted almost immediately by the same blue-eyed, metal-faced young man that Drizzt had met a little over an hour previously.

"Hey, Corey!" he said with an innocent grin. "Who's the new guy?"

Corey raised an eyebrow. "Zedric's been around since the beginning of the semester, Austin."

"Naw," Austin said, gesturing at Drizzt with his thumb. "I mean freerunner over here."

"What?" said Zedric, turning around to give Drizzt a puzzled glance.

"I told you," Drizzt muttered. "I had trouble with the doors."

"How could you have trouble with the doors?" Corey asked. "They're automatic."

Austin rolled his eyes. "I'm Austin," he said, reaching a hand past Zedric for Drizzt to shake.

"Drizzt Do'Urden," the drow responded, accepting the handshake.

"Cool," said Austin. He clapped his hands together. "So! Great Colloquium, huh? Who's ready to draw?"

Corey scoffed. Zedric laughed nervously.

"I am," said Drizzt.

Corey and Zedric both whirled around to gape at the drow.

Austin grinned even wider, which Drizzt would have thought impossible with any other human. "Awesome," he said. "Mitchell's super inspiring, isn't he?"

"The professor?" said Drizzt.

Austin nodded. "Yeah, Professor Mitchell."

"I did not know his name," Drizzt said apologetically. "But yes, he is an inspiring speaker."

"So, Drizzt," said Austin. "Are you new here, or just visiting, or...?"

"Just visiting," Corey answered for him, grabbing Drizzt by the elbow.

Austin put up his hands. "No need to get all territorial, I was just wondering."

"Yeah, well," said Corey, "we'd better get going. Long day ahead and all."

"Sure, sure," said Austin as Corey led the group past him. "Have fun. See you later, Drizzt!"

"So," said Zedric after the group had finally left the building. "You really want to try your hand at art?"

Drizzt looked around, soaking in as much of the campus as he was able to. "I might," he said. "It's certainly something I haven't tried before."

"Better now than never," Merlin sang.

Zedric glared at her. "English major!" he said, as though it were a scandalous accusation.

"You can come along to my Life Drawing class," Corey said to Drizzt. "It's at three."

Drizzt nodded. Corey had explained this world's clocks and time-telling terminology to him before they'd even left the dorm that morning.

"Meanwhile," Corey continued, "I'm going to go hiking. Want to come along?"

"Certainly," said Drizzt, recalling the many hikes he had taken with friends in Icewind Dale. The memories caused a small pang in his chest as he realized that he might never see them again.


	7. The Mercenaries Arrive

(AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi guys! First, thanks so much for reading and reviewing my story! Your thoughts and words mean a lot to me.

Some of you have voiced concerns that this fic has too much "filler." I'm not sure what you were expecting; it's not really the sort of story to have a fast-paced plot. While there is an overall plot, it's gonna take a while to get there, and if I just went straight to it, it would be really boring. So, sorry if it's too filler-y for you, but I'm not exactly sure how I can change that.

Also, I've read The Pirate King, and I have decided to ignore it as far as this fic is concerned. If you haven't noticed already, I'm ignoring a LOT of canon. I'm not sure when this fic takes place - maybe between The Orc King and The Pirate King? I don't know, do you?

Anyway, without further ado, CHAPTER SEVEN!)

--

To Drizzt's puzzlement, Corey led him not into the woods that bordered the campus on almost all sides, but instead took him back to the parking lot. She approached one of the cars. It was red, and lower to the ground than many of the others. Where most of the other cars had corners, this one had curves. It also had a massive scratch and a dent to match on its left-front corner.

"This is Red Red Wine," said Corey, putting a hand on top of the car. "

"Your car?" Drizzt asked.

"Ayep," said Corey, grinning down at her vehicle. She took her hand off the top of the car and slid her fingers underneath a slit in the side. Pulling up on the slit, she opened the side of the car like a door. "Get in."

Drizzt imitated her actions. He could see the inside of the car before, through the windows, but now he had a better look. It was filled with low-to-the-floor chairs, gray and soft-looking. The floor itself was covered in unrecognizable odds and ends, what Drizzt could only describe as "junk."

Corey slid easily into the chair on her side of the car. In front of her was a wheel much like the wheel found on the helm of a ship. She dug into her pocket and produced a set of keys, putting one key into a notch just behind and to the side of the wheel.

Drizzt was about to get into the car when Zedric stopped him.

"We need to get in first," he explained, reaching past Drizzt to pull a lever under the chair on Drizzt's side of the car. The back of the chair snapped forward to rest on the seat. Zedric crawled over the chair into the rear of the car, with Merlin following closely behind and pulling the lever again to return the chair to its original state. Drizzt got into the car last, sitting somewhat nervously in the chair, now that it had been revealed as being not entirely stationary.

"Buckle up," said Corey, turning the key in its slot. Rather than opening a door, the key-turning started machinery; Drizzt heard a brief roar from somewhere in front of his knees before the sound settled into a dull rumbling.

"Buckle up?" Drizzt asked.

"Shorthand for 'put on a seatbelt,'" Zedric explained, reaching around Drizzt's chair to tug on a belt that hung from the wall of the car. "You take this, pull it across your torso, then put the metal bit into your buckle."

Drizzt did as he was told, frowning in confusion.

"No," said Corey, "not your belt buckle, the - oh, let me." She grabbed the seatbelt out of Drizzt's hand and shoved the metal end into a slot on the left side of his seat, the action making a clicking sound. Satisfied, she sat back in her seat and buckled herself in, then reached for a lever between her and Drizzt's seats. She put the lever through a quick series of motions, then turned around in her seat to watch behind her as the car began to move backwards.

"What are the belts for?" Drizzt asked. Corey being distracted by driving the vehicle, he turned to Zedric for the answer.

Zedric looked uncomfortable. "It's in case we... crash," he said.

Drizzt raised his eyebrows. "Is this a common occurrence?"

"Well..." said Zedric, avoiding Drizzt's gaze.

"Every thirteen minutes," Merlin piped up, "a person dies in a car crash!" Her perky expression was at an extreme contrast to her proclamation.

Drizzt stared at her for a moment, then turned his attention to his seatbelt, desperately trying to find a way to extract himself from its clutches.

"The statistics are skewed!" said Zedric, leaning forward to stop the drow. "Those people _aren't_ wearing seatbelts! And they're usually drunk!"

"Or just unlucky enough to be driving near someone who is drunk," said Merlin, still smiling brightly.

"Merlin," said Corey, putting the lever through another series of motions that made the car go forward. "Shut up."

The smaller girl obeyed, even going so far as to tone down her smile.

"You're safe," Corey said to Drizzt, though the drow was not keen on believing her. He was more concerned with how quickly the car was picking up speed. They were soon out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"I do Chinese deliveries," Corey went on.

"You what?" asked Drizzt, watching the trees go by faster and faster out the window. The last time he had journeyed this quickly, it had been on the back of a horse wearing enchanted shoes. It was strange, to move so fast and yet be sitting almost perfectly still, the car just barely vibrating around him. The only real indication of motion came from what he saw; he was certain that if he closed his eyes, he would feel as though he weren't moving at all.

"Chinese deliveries," said Corey again, moving the lever into a new position. The car picked up even more speed, which Drizzt would not have expected to be possible. "Over the summer, in my hometown, I work for a Chinese restaurant. It's my job to get people's food to them as fast as I can." She grinned at Drizzt. "And I can do it very fast. I haven't been in an accident yet. So relax."

"If you've not yet been in an 'accident,'" said Drizzt, wishing that Corey hadn't taken her eyes off of the road, "then how did Red Red Wine get that dent in the front?"

Corey frowned. "That one wasn't my fault."

"So all of your expertise matters for nothing if someone else is out of control," concluded Drizzt.

Corey scowled and didn't answer him. Drizzt took that to mean that he was correct, a fact that he did not find particularly comforting. So far, this "hike" had turned out to be more of a "ride." He wondered if the word meant something different in this realm. He resolved to ask for specific definitions before accepting any future offers here.

--

"The mercenaries have arrived!"

Catti-brie dropped the spellbook that she had been studying and fled the room, Harkle close behind her. The shout had been magically enhanced, sounding loudly in every room of the Ivy Mansion, but the inhabitants knew it had come from the Fuzzy Quarterstaff.

The bar was filled with Harpells by the time they arrived. Catti-brie couldn't tell where the mercenaries were at first, until she saw that the densest cluster of wizards stood at the opposite side of the room from where she'd entered. She hurried over, eager to meet the people who would rescue Drizzt. As she got closer, she spied a large feather poking up above the many Harpell heads.

"Excuse me!" she heard Harkle shouting from behind her. "Pardon us, make way for the princess of Clan Battlehammer!"

The Harpells parted accordingly, and the sight that greeted Catti-brie stopped her dead in her tracks.

"You!" she shouted, her jaw slack with disbelief.

"Us," said Jarlaxle, grinning and bowing low, sweeping the enormous wide-brimmed hat from his bald head. Standing behind him, Artemis Entreri offered only a slight incline of his head.

Catti-brie stared for a few moments, then whirled around to confront Harkle.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"Wh-what's wrong?" asked Harkle, wringing his hands.

"What's _wrong?_" said Catti-brie, throwing one arm behind herself to point accusingly at the mercenaries. "These men are killers! Assassins! Wanted criminals!"

"They came highly recommended..." one wizard in the crowd mumbled.

Jarlaxle grinned. "And to be perfectly fair, only one of us is an assassin."

"They're not here to help Drizzt!" Catti-brie went on, ignoring the dissenting voices. "They want him dead!"

"Is that true?" asked Harkle, peering around the princess to regard the mercenaries directly.

"Again," said Jarlaxle, "I would like to point out that only one of us has ever desired the demise of Drizzt Do'Urden." He paused briefly, then added, "And it was not me."

Catti-brie spun around again to glare at the mercenary, and the assassin behind him. "What about now?" she asked. "Ye can't be expectin' me to believe that ye've changed yer ways."

"I should hope that you could find it in your heart to let bygones be bygones, Princess," said Jarlaxle, bowing again.

"And ye?" said Catti-brie, ignoring the mercenary and jerking her chin in the assassin's direction.

Entreri considered his words carefully before replying, "Whatever grudge I bore against Drizzt Do'Urden is in the past."

"His only concern now," Jarlaxle continued for him, "is to complete the mission ahead of us to the satisfaction of all parties involved."

"There, you see?" said Harkle. "Nothing to worry about."

Catti-brie glared at each of the men in turn, before finally settling on Harkle.

"This is unacceptable," she informed the wizard. "I canno' be satisfied that they have Drizzt's best interest at heart. Ye must find others."

"Others?" said Harkle.

"Others," said Catti-brie. "Somebody else is going to have to go after Drizzt. Not these men. Not ever."

"With all due respect, Princess," said Jarlaxle, "are you certain that your own motives for refusing us are pure?"

"What?" she said, turning to face the mercenary once more.

"I had heard," the drow continued with a growing smile, "that you yourself wanted to rescue your beloved. Do you intend to refuse every able-bodied man or woman who comes here to aid your cause, in the hope that your wizard friends will finally let you go alone?"

Catti-brie blushed. "No. But I'll certainly refuse those who come here to hurt."

With a final glare at each of the mercenaries, she marched out of the room.

--

Drizzt was beginning to get used to riding in the car. They had passed by a few other vehicles going in the opposite direction, and encountered what Corey had identified as a "stoplight." It was strange to think of all the traffic in the land being subject to such strict control. He supposed that was what kept the death rates for this form of travel as low as they were, though they still weren't as low as he would have liked. Corey did indeed seem to know what she was doing. The constant thrumming of the engine was almost lulling Drizzt to sleep.

His peace was rudely interrupted when Corey reached toward what she called a "dashboard" and turned one of the myriad knobs. The window that Drizzt was leaning his head against began to throb with vibrations from the noise that spewed from the door below it. He jerked back, bumping the back of his skull against the spot where the seatbelt met the ceiling and wall, and brought his hands up to cover his ears. The sound was everywhere; the entire car was vibrating with it, this horrible screeching, blasting noise.

"What is that?" he shouted, hunched over in his seat, doing everything in his power to block out the noise.

"Music!" Corey shouted back with a grin.

"Can you turn it down?" Zedric yelled from the back seat, his body language a less extreme version of Drizzt's. "Please?"

Corey stuck out her tongue at Zedric's image in the rear-view mirror. "Pussy!" she said before obliging the elves and twisting the knob back.

The noise was quieter now, but still present and still a terrible thing to hear. Drizzt could dimly make out human screams and the banging of drums, along with many other sounds he couldn't readily identify.

"This is music?" he asked incredulously. "This is a _song?_"

"Yup!" said Corey, tapping one hand on the steering wheel in time with the drums.

"Maybe you could play something less horrible?" Zedric suggested.

Corey glared at him through the mirror and reached down under her seat, retrieving a small metallic box covered in buttons. She pressed it a few times; with each pressing there was a little _skip_ in the noise, and a minor improvement in the quality of it.

"Mindless Self Indulgence isn't horrible," she muttered, dropping the box and putting both hands back on the steering wheel.

Drizzt was of the opinion that any self-indulgence at the expense of others was, indeed, horrible, but he kept that opinion to himself, not wanting to anger the girl who for the moment held his life or death in her hands. The sounds playing now were more like the music he might hear in Faerûn, but still a far cry from it. He could make out some words...

"'The blood runs down the drain'?" he repeated, looking to Corey for an explanation.

"July, July, July never seemed so strange," Corey sang along in response.

"This is mindless self-indulgence?" asked Drizzt.

"No," said Corey, "this is The Decemberists."

Drizzt gave up on Corey and turned around in his seat to ask Zedric.

"They're band names," the half-elf explained. "A group called Mindless Self-Indulgence made the crap we were listening to before - "

"It's not crap!" protested Corey. "You're just a bitch!"

Zedric ignored her. "And a group called The Decemberists made the song we're listening to now."

Drizzt nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at the dashboard before looking back to Zedric.

"Where are they now?" he asked.

"Who, the band?" said Zed.

"As far as I can tell," said Drizzt, "we do not have minstrels in the car with us. Does this device scry them?" He gestured towards the dashboard.

"Um," said Zedric. "No, there's no magic involved, it's... ah..."

"Recordings of sound on metal," said Merlin. "Much like the recording of words onto a page. Just as you would read words from a book, a beam of light reads sound from metal discs and makes music."

Drizzt blinked, surprised that the diminutive human had given such a direct answer. "Thank you, Merlin."

Merlin beamed. "I _like_ Mindless Self-Indulgence," she said, "but The Decemberists are fine too."

"Enya would be ideal," murmured Zedric.

"Enya is another group?" Drizzt asked.

"Just one person," said Zedric. "But yeah, she makes music. Some of the best I've been able to find in this place, as a matter of fact." He scowled at Corey. "I suppose _you_ wouldn't have any."

Corey didn't say a word. Instead, she pulled out her metal box and pushed more buttons.

The sound in the car changed from almost-music to what Drizzt could agree was certainly a song. Unlike the previous noise, this music was soothing and familiar.

"You know," Zedric said to Corey, "I would not have expected that from you."

"It's okay," said Corey. "I wouldn't expect you to not be a judgmental prick."

"Touché," Zedric muttered.

The rest of the car ride was silent, save for song after song of Enya. Finally, Corey drove off of the road into a patch of dirt in a field and stopped the car.

"We're here," she said, turning the key and stopping the engine.

Drizzt struggled somewhat with unbuckling himself, but it was only momentary and he soon extracted himself from the car. His legs ached from sitting for so long. As he stretched them, he glanced out across the field to the woods that bordered it. He frowned, putting the pieces together. They had travelled a great distance in a car in order to walk another distance in a small patch of woods that seemed nearly identical to the woods they had left behind. It all seemed rather silly.

"Come on!" he heard Merlin shout, and saw the girl sprinting across the field. She didn't so much run as leap, bounding around the landscape until she reached the edge of the woods, at which point she turned around and waved enthusiastically back at him.

Drizzt grinned and ran after her. He briefly considered calling Guenhwyvar to join them, but he decided against it, not knowing how common magically-conjured cats were in this realm. He suspected they were not very common at all.

"Why are you people running?" came Zedric's desperate plea from behind him. Then there was Corey's laugh, and the other young woman came up beside the drow.

It was a marvelous race to the tree-line, one that Drizzt would have won entirely if not for Merlin's head start. From there, the three teens and the drow began following a path through the woods. It was wide enough for the four of them to walk abreast, and Corey informed him that the path looped around itself, so that if they kept walking far enough they'd end up where they'd started.

Drizzt let his gaze drift upward to the underside of the tree branches. Like the ones at the school, these trees were all very young; Drizzt doubted there was a plant here that had aged beyond thirty years. He wondered what had happened to all the older trees. Perhaps there had been a fire.

"What happened here?" he asked.

The three teens exchanged confused looks.

"Well, Drizzt," said Corey, "when two trees love each other very much..."

Drizzt waited for her to end her statement in such a way that would make sense, but she just trailed off and let her words hang.

"What do you mean, what happened?" said Zedric.

"The trees are so young," said Drizzt, wondering now if that was simply as old as trees would get around here.

"The forests that used to be here were mowed down to provide fuel for the mills," said Merlin. "When the mills stopped making money, people stopped harvesting fuel for them, and the woods grew back." She smiled and twirled, stretching her arms up over her head in what Drizzt took to be an imitation of a growing tree.

"Now the mills are abandoned and nobody can hold down a job and homelessness is at an all-time high," said Corey, "but hey! At least we have trees!"

Drizzt found it hard to tell whether or not she was being sarcastic. "Why were the mills shut down?" he asked.

"The government has laws that say how much a person has to be paid for their labor," Corey explained. "The people who owned the mills and the factories and the companies and the hoopla found that it was cheaper to hire people in other countries and just ship the finished goods here."

"Your king has a lot of control," said Drizzt. "I'm surprised the guilds haven't risen up against him."

Corey looked at him strangely for a moment. "It's gonna take waaay too long to explain our government to you," she said finally.


	8. Life Drawing

(A/N: This chapter is longer, with more plot and less humor. Also, I would like to note that I am working with post-Sellswords Trilogy versions of Jarlaxle and Entreri. Thanks for reading!)

* * *

_My second night in a new world, and already I am homesick for Faerûn. I suppose it may just be because I am alone, with none of my companions beside me as I explore my new surroundings. But I struggle to think of a time when I have been apart from them and it has not been because of a catastrophe. I worry for my friends when we are apart, and at the same time I hope they do not worry too much for my sake. I realize that this is mindset is mildly ridiculous, but there it stands._

_I don't mean that I am entirely alone here. I have made several new acquaintances who are all too eager to come to my aid. For that, I am grateful, as I am uncertain that I could survive without them. Still, though I feel that we could someday become friends, two days of company does not a bosom companion make._

_This place is... strange._

_The air is foul. The trees are too new. Magic is unheard of, save for a few exceptions among my new acquaintances. Humans would appear to be the only race left. (Were there ever other races here?) Monsters are of no concern. The average man sees nearly a century of life. There are no kings, and few gods. What gods there are do not show themselves to their followers, nor do they bestow spells on their priests._

_I want to go home. As curious as I am, I would rather wake up in Faerûn tomorrow than have a week of learning here._

_But here I am, and while I am here I might as well make the most of it._

Drizzt closed the notebook, satisfied with what he had written. The purple notebook had been an unprecedented gift from Leigh, who all but threw it at him when she heard him asking Corey for a writing utensil and paper. She had insisted that he keep it, her reasoning being, "the cover matches your eyes."

"It was like fifty cents at Wal-Mart anyways," she had said.

Drizzt resolved to ask Corey what the gold piece to cent conversion rate was, so that he might pay Leigh back in the future.

***

Catti-brie stared out across the green lawns of the Ivy Mansion. She had a fairly good view of the grounds from the window of her room. She witnessed wizards experimenting with spells that were simply too grand to be practiced indoors. Currently, a pair of wizards had made a mouse grow to twice the height of a man, and were having some difficulty putting it back to rights. They held a muted shouting match, waving their arms as they argued about the counterspell. Meanwhile, their enormous charge devoured the lawn.

Catti-brie noticed none of this. Her eyes were on the mouse, but her mind was a million miles away, thinking of Drizzt and the trials he might be enduring. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on the window pane. A knock at the door startled her out of her daydream.

"Come in," she said automatically, pushing herself away from the window and turning towards the door.

The door swung inward to reveal a man with dark hair and eyes, armed with a jeweled dagger. Catti-brie's eyes widened and she instinctively grabbed the hilt of her sword, though she refrained from drawing it out of its sheath.

"What d'ye want?" she asked, her voice surprisingly calm.

"To talk," Entreri answered, stepping into the room. Catti-brie stepped backward, keeping the distance between them just as it was.

"And if I'm not interested?" the princess growled.

"Then I ask only that you listen," said the assassin, putting his hands into the air, palms-forward. "I did not come here to hurt you."

"Ye never do," Catti-brie replied, her tone sour. "Ye come to hurt my friends, and to use me in yer efforts."

"But not this time," said Entreri, a hint of exasperation seeping into his words. "This is strictly business."

"Out with yer business, then," snapped Catti-brie.

"It would greatly please myself and my... associate if you would withdraw your objections to our rescue of your friend," said Entreri.

"Oh, well, since ye asked nicely... no," said Catti-brie, tightening her grip on her sword.

"It will take weeks to seek out candidates nearly as qualified as we are," Entreri continued, ignoring the woman's sarcasm. "While you waste time on grudges, your friend could be in mortal peril."

"He'll be in peril for sure if I let the likes of ye go after him!"

Entreri sighed.

"What can I do," he asked, "to make you trust me?"

Several suggestions ran through Catti-brie's mind. Among them were such winners as "jump off the highest tower in the Mansion" and "swim back to Calimport." But before she could pick one to say, Entreri had unsheathed his dagger.

In a flash, Catti-brie's sword was in her hand, ready to block the assassin's blow.

To her astonishment, the assassin did not strike, but held his dagger gingerly by the blade, the handle extended towards her.

Catti-brie stared at the dagger for a moment, then looked back up at the assassin. "What're ye fer?"

"Take it," Entreri said.

"Why?"

"As a gesture of good faith," said Entreri, the words obviously difficult for him to say. "I give you my dagger now. When I return with Drizzt, safe and sound, I will expect you to return it to me. Consider it collateral."

Catti-brie could do naught but gawk for some time. Personally, she considered Drizzt to be worth far more than any dagger in all the Realms, or indeed, a dragon's horde of daggers. But this... this was _the_ dagger, Entreri's sinister, signature weapon. Catti-brie had never seen him without it. For all she knew, he had never used another.

She snatched the dagger out of the assassin's hand, nicking him in the process. The miniscule shock of energy into her system as the vampiric dagger sucked a fraction of life force from the assassin told the woman everything she needed to know.

"I'll keep it safe," she said, holding the dagger close to her side.

Entreri closed his fist around the minor wound and nodded grimly. "You'll let us do our job, then?"

"I'll raise no more objections," said Catti-brie.

With a small bow, Entreri spun on his heel and exited the room, shutting the door violently yet quietly behind himself. He'd not gone ten paces down the hallway before Jarlaxle appeared beside him. The sudden arrival of the drow didn't surprise Entreri; he'd come to expect Jarlaxle to show up out of nowhere.

"So, how did it go?" the mercenary asked with a smirk.

"Exactly as you predicted," said Entreri, scowling. He felt naked without his dagger. He never would have given it up without Jarlaxle's... persuasive insistence.

"Excellent!" said Jarlaxle, raising his arm to clap Entreri on the back in congratulations, but rethinking the action and settling for twirling his hand around in the air in an impromptu victory flounce. "We are employed!"

"So it would seem," grumbled Entreri.

"And so it is," said Jarlaxle, grinning with delight.

Entreri glared at the drow out of the corner of his eye. "I was lead to believe that he had died," he said. He didn't need to say who he was talking about.

Jarlaxle frowned thoughtfully. "So you were," the mercenary said finally. "And now we find that he is alive... or was, more recently than we had thought."

"You knew all along," said Entreri.

Jarlaxle didn't answer.

"Well?" the assassin demanded.

"Well what?" said Jarlaxle. "There are plenty of things that I know that you don't. Shall I divulge my centuries' worth of learning to you here and now? I doubt that there is time for such scholarly pursuits, given our current engagement to rescue Drizzt Do'Urden, but--"

"It was all a farce," said Entreri, glowering at the drow. "You fooled me into thinking him dead, so that I would abandon my efforts to defeat him and go galavanting across the landscape with you."

"...Possibly," Jarlaxle admitted.

Entreri dearly wished his dagger was back in his possession. His fingers itched to reach for it, to grasp it by the handle and...

...and what? Kill Jarlaxle? That was impossible, even Entreri could admit that. Still, the assassin had half a mind to go back to Catti-brie, retrieve his dagger, withdraw his offer to rescue... him... and leave Jarlaxle to solve this little problem alone.

Entreri looked back to the drow, to find that Jarlaxle looked almost repentant.

"I am sorry," said the mercenary, "but I could not let you kill him. Nor could I let him kill you. You are both too valuable to me."

"As toys?" sneered the assassin. "As dolls to set up and knock down for your own amusements?"

"As allies," said Jarlaxle, his tone even and calming, as though explaining something to an upset child.

"We are hardly allies," Entreri snorted.

"Then why are you here?" asked Jarlaxle.

Entreri knew that the drow hoped his question would send the assassin deep into thought, thought that would eventually convince Entreri to see Jarlaxle's side of the argument.

"Why indeed?" said Entreri. He turned around and began walking back down the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Jarlaxle called after him, trotting to keep up.

"To get my damned dagger back," Entreri growled.

"She won't trust you," Jarlaxle warned.

"Who needs the trust of the dead?"

"You won't," said Jarlaxle, stopping in the hallway and crossing his arms over his chest.

Entreri stopped as well, turning to face the drow. "Won't what?"

"You won't kill her," said Jarlaxle.

"And why not?"

"It's not in your nature," the drow explained. "Killing her gives you no advantage."

"It gives me the advantage of not having to go on this stupid adventure," said Entreri. "And the added advantage of not having to listen to her complain."

"I will complain in her stead," said Jarlaxle, "and so will the residents of the Ivy Mansion, no doubt."

"Then I will slaughter them all."

"Are you honestly proposing a killing spree," sighed Jarlaxle, "all because of one little white lie?"

Entreri gaped at his associate.

"A little white lie?" he whispered. His face contorted with rage. "A little white lie!?"

Jarlaxle took a step back. "Perhaps--"

"Perhaps nothing! You convinced me that my greatest adversary was dead so that I would be your traveling companion!"

"And you found peace!" Jarlaxle shouted.

There was silence between them for nearly a full minute.

"What?" Entreri said finally.

Jarlaxle scowled. Entreri could not recall seeing the drow this visibly incensed since the destruction of Creshinibon.

"You stopped obsessing over a foolish rivalry and moved on with your life," said Jarlaxle. "You went adventuring, yes, and you actually _accomplished something_. Many things! You were a pasha, a mercenary, and even a king. You have been and done more than you ever would have if you had not let Drizzt Do'Urden go. You have lived!"

Entreri's hands trembled with rage, but he could not formulate a response to Jarlaxle's argument.

The drow's expression softened.

"Please do not take your dagger back just yet," he said. "Think on what we are doing, on what we have done, and on what we can do. Give it one night. If you are not convinced by tomorrow, you may retrieve your dagger, murder the world, and die just as you were born. Are we agreed?"

The assassin said nothing, but walked down the hallway away from Catti-brie's door. Jarlaxle let him storm off, watching as he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

Jarlaxle sighed and removed his hat, rubbing his bald head. He dearly hoped that his companion would see reason and agree to take on this job. He doubted that anyone else could help him rescue Drizzt Do'Urden, and that was, indeed, his goal.

He owed Zaknafein that much.

***

Drizzt awoke early the next morning, showered, dressed, and sat down to read more of The Once and Future King, which Leigh seemed absolutely delighted to lend him. Leigh herself rose and departed for class not long after Drizzt became involved in his reading. It was another two hours after that before Corey awoke, wandering around wrapped in her blanket for a few minutes, muttering to herself before she finally decided to wear the same clothes as the day before.

"Good morning," said Drizzt, looking up from his book.

Corey glared at him. "It never is," she said.

Drizzt raised an eyebrow at her proclamation. "I take it you are not a morning person, then?"

"Well, actually, there was that one time at that grassroots festival," said Corey, staring at the wall as she reminisced. "Slept in my car and woke up with people picnicking on it." She grinned. "Man, the looks on their faces when I kicked open the trunk to let myself out. Priceless."

Drizzt had to smile at that. "Your drawing class is at three, correct?" he asked.

"Yep," said Corey, hopping back onto the bed and dragging her laptop into her lap.

"And what will you be doing until then?" said Drizzt.

"This, probably," said Corey, gesturing to her laptop's screen.

Drizzt sighed inwardly, though his outward appearance remained stoic as ever. Like many drow, he possessed a great deal of patience. It was only a few more hours until three o' clock. But still, he was bored. More than anything, he wanted to be running through a forest right now, racing Guenhwyvar until his legs burned and he was left gasping for air. How the people who lived here could be content to sit and stare at their tools all day was beyond his understanding. The more he thought on it, the more he was glad that he couldn't understand it.

The hours passed, and eventually Corey closed her laptop and set it aside.

"Time to go," she said, heading for the door. Drizzt followed her obligingly as she led him into the hall, down the stairs, and out of the building. He noticed that they were following essentially the same path that had led them to yesterday's lecture. They ended up at the same building; this time, Drizzt did not tuck and roll through the doors, but walked through them at a steady pace. He was quite relieved when they did not slam shut on him.

Corey led him up several flights of stairs to the top floor of the building, then down another hallway to the last classroom. When she opened the door, Drizzt saw that many of the other students had already gathered. Among these students was Austin. Drizzt responded to the boy's energetic wave with a small smile and a curt nod.

The classroom was a large one, about six times the size of the room that Corey and Leigh lived in. It was filled with easels, upon which were large sheets of parchment bound together at one end. Students milled around the room, clutching measuring instruments and mark-making tools, primarily charcoal. Some students stared at Drizzt when they thought he wasn't looking. He ignored them; decades of living on the surface of Faerûn had more than prepared the ranger for the experience of being an oddity.

Corey had gone over to a set of shelves at one end of the room and returned with a set of bound parchment bearing runes that spelled her name on its cover.

"I figure we can share for today," she said, tearing off a sheet of parchment and holding it up to an easel. With her other hand, she pulled off a section of ribbon from a roll and pressed it against the edges of the paper. Taking her hands away, Drizzt saw that the paper did not fall off of the easel but stayed exactly where Corey had put it.

"What is that?" Drizzt asked.

Corey sighed. "You're going to have to point or something, Drizzt. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The ribbon," Drizzt said, letting his finger hover just over it. He was reluctant to touch it, lest his hand be stuck fast to the easel.

Corey glanced around before answering him in an urgent whisper. "That's _tape_, Drizzt. It's about as common as dirt."

Drizzt shrugged apologetically. Truth be told, dirt seemed much less common here than it had been in Faerûn.

Corey held up a piece of charcoal. "I trust you know what this is?" she said sardonically.

"Charcoal," Drizzt said with a smirk, taking it from her hands. "Somewhat less common than dirt."

He winced and put his hands up to his ears. Austin was dragging his easel across the room, and the friction of metal-on-tile made a horrible screeching noise.

"Sorry!" said the young man as he finished his task, his easel now next to Drizzt's. "What's up?"

"The heavens," Drizzt answered.

"True enough," said Austin, nodding. "So, what're you doing here? Are you gonna stick around, thinking of transferring...?"

"I attend a community college back in Oregon," said Drizzt, reciting the cover story that he, Corey, and Zedric had prepared last night. "I've mostly been working on my gen-ed requirements while I figure out what I want to major in. This school has an attractive arts program, so I am auditing some classes while I visit Corey. Should I find them to my satisfaction, I shall transfer here."

Austin nodded again. "Yeah, the arts program is pretty amazing. It's the only place in the country that offers a metals major."

Drizzt wasn't sure if asking for clarification would mark him as an impostor. He settled for wearing a puzzled expression.

"It's crazy, I know," said Austin, taking the hint. "Metals isn't that popular, I guess. But it's what I'm interested in, for sure."

"So I'd gathered," said Drizzt, eyeing Austin's myriad piercings.

Austin laughed. "Yeah, I wanna work for Angel Swords in Texas. They've got this huge forge, it's fantastic."

Drizzt wanted to tell Austin about the forges in Mithril Hall and Icewind Dale. He knew the boy would be interested. But he also knew that first he would have to explain about dwarves, and Faerûn, and magic...

...or would he?

"A friend of mine works with metals," he said.

"No kidding?" Austin's face lit up. "At Angel Swords, or...?"

Drizzt shook his head. "Not Angel Swords. He has his own forge."

"What, so he just does his own thing?"

Drizzt smiled wryly. It was hard to imagine Bruenor taking direction from anyone. "Yes, he does his own thing."

Corey coughed to get their attention, giving Drizzt an angry look that the drow took to mean time to shut up. Two older women had just walked into the room; one dressed much like the students, and the other wearing a robe that folded over and tied in the front. The robed woman walked to the center of the room and sat in an available chair, looking bored. The other woman addressed the class.

"Hi, guys!" she said. "How y'all doing?"

The class responded mostly by mumbling, except for Austin.

"Awesome!" he said.

The woman, who Drizzt took to be the professor, smiled indulgently at Austin before going back to addressing the class as a whole. "We're going to be concentrating on the torso today. I want to see you working on your line weight, and really trying to feel your way around the form. Jess, if you would?"

The professor gestured to the robed woman, who stood and removed her robe. She stood before the class entirely nude.

Drizzt's first instinct was to avert his gaze, but he quickly realized that was the opposite of what he was supposed to do. The other students frowned at the nude woman, concentrating and studying the shape of her body with their eyes before they glanced back at their parchment and made a few marks with their charcoal.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Drizzt looked at the nude woman. He was no stranger to the naked form of a woman. The air temperature was consistently hot in Menzoberranzan, with the result that many drow females wore as little as possible. Of course, any male caught with his gaze on a female for a second too long would probably end up on an altar with a dagger through his chest...

Drizzt reminded himself that this was decidedly _not_ Menzoberranzan, and looking was precisely what he was supposed to be doing.

He raised his hand holding the charcoal to the paper, and was about to make the first mark when the professor addressed him directly.

"Hello!" she said, coming up behind him. "I'm Helen White, and you?"

"Drizzt do'Urden," he answered, shaking her hand. "I'm Corey's friend..." He gestured to the younger woman, who turned away from her easel to join the conversation.

"He's thinking of transferring here," said Corey. "I figured maybe he could audit a couple of classes...?"

"Oh, that's fine, fine," Professor White reassured her. "How much experience do you have with drawing, Drizzit?"

"Not much," Drizzt admitted, not bothering to correct her pronunciation of his name.

"What would you be majoring in, if you came here?"

"Metals," said Drizzt, the first answer that came into his head. It wasn't part of the story he had worked on with Corey and Zedric, and he could see Corey wince over Professor White's shoulder.

"Oh, really?" said Professor White. "Okay then. Now, Drizzit, are you left-handed or right-handed?"

"Ambidextrous," said Drizzt.

"Oh, good for you! Well, you're drawing with your right hand now, aren't you?"

"Yes," Drizzt said hesitantly.

"Okay, well, if you're drawing right-handed, you're going to want to have your easel facing to the right too. See," she got between Drizzt and his easel, a distance that the ranger thought far too close, "the way you've got it now, with your easel facing left, your arm is blocking your view of Jess every time you go to draw. And that's not good, because you need to be able to just glance back and forth between Jess and the paper. Okay?"

Drizzt nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Oh, it's no trouble," said Professor White, patting him on the shoulder. "Welcome to UMass!"

Drizzt smiled and nodded again, as Professor White wandered off to bother another student. He heard a noise from Corey's direction, and turned to see her in hysterics, clutching her stomach with one hand and with the other hand over her mouth to cover the sound of her laughter.

"Does that happen often?" Drizzt whispered.

"Every day!" Corey replied with a feral grin.

"Art people are pretty touchy-feely," said Austin, wiggling his fingers in the air to illustrate his point. "Helen would probably back off if you asked her to, though. She's really nice."

Drizzt nodded and went back to his drawing, switching the charcoal to his left hand to avoid having to move the easel.

Two hours later, the model had put her robe back on, and Professor White had instructed the class to turn their easels to face the center of the room. Drizzt turned his easel quickly and then planted his hands over his ears to block out the screeching of the other students' easels.

"Okay!" said Professor White, standing in the center of the room and turning around to look at all of the drawings. "Katie, great job capturing the shadows. Janet, a little too German expressionist again, try to control your line weight more. Ben, the angle of her breasts is slightly off, but other than that it's nicely done. And - oh, fantastic!" She clapped her hands and rushed over to Drizzt's easel.

"Everyone, look here!" she said, waving her hand over the drawing. "Look at this level of control! See how the line is thicker here, where all of the weight comes down on that hip, and then up here at the top of the shoulders, how the line is whisper-thin! Drizzit, I thought you said you had no experience drawing?"

Drizzt shrugged helplessly.

"Marvelous! And here, how the shadow is built up with hundreds of tiny, tiny lines... very well done, well done indeed."

Now it was Austin who was covering up his laughter, while Corey glared daggers at Drizzt's drawing. The eyes of every student were either on Drizzt or his drawing. He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable with being the center of attention.

"Well, let's move on," said Professor White, doing just that. "Corey, you need to work on your measuring, that arm is much too long. But I like how voluptuous you've made her hips, there's a real dimensionality to them."

The critique finally ended, and the students began packing up their work. Corey cleaned up her area with unnecessary ferocity.

"Where should I put my drawing?" Drizzt asked.

Corey sighed. "You can just put it in my portfolio, I guess, or take it back to the room..."

"I'll take it back," said Drizzt, frowning slightly as he rolled the drawing up and put it under his arm. "Have I angered you?"

"What?" said Corey. "No, no, it's just..." She sighed again.

"Should I not have told them that I wanted to be a metals major?"

"No, that's fine," said Corey as she led the way out of the classroom. "And it would have been a great explanation for you sucking at drawing, but you don't. As it turns out, you're amazing at it. Congratulations."

"You're jealous," Drizzt concluded, the pieces falling into place.

"Well, can you blame me?" Corey spluttered, waving her arms. "I mean, you saw mine, it looks like total crap. And your work looks like something out of a junior or senior's portfolio."

"Your work is not crap," said Drizzt.

"Whatever," Corey grumbled. "I work my ass off to make art, and you just swoop into class and touch the paper, and it's an instant masterpiece. It's effortless for you. It's not fair!"

Drizzt raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to apologize? Should I hold back?"

"Naw," said Corey, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm just pissed. I'll get over it."

"But am I making myself suspicious by being so... talented?"

"A little bit, yeah," Corey admitted. "Nothing we can do about it now, though. It'll be even more suspicious if you suddenly start sucking."

"I am sorry," Drizzt said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know," said Corey. "Not your fault." She sighed again. "You can't help being a flouncy, hyper-dextrous elf."

Drizzt took the insult stoically.


	9. Stalking

[Author's Note: Sorry for making you guys wait so long for an update! Finals kept me busy, and vacation was distracting... But now I'm back, and we should get back to our regular psuedo-monthly update schedule in no time. Thank you for your patience, and all your kind reviews!]

***

Early the next morning, Catti-brie met up with Harkle on the lawn of the Ivy Mansion. They were joined by nearly all of the other Harpells, along with Jarlaxle. It was time to send the mercenaries after Drizzt.

"Where is Entreri?" Catti-brie asked the drow.

Jarlaxle smiled, exuding an air of calm and poise. "He shall be along shortly," he promised her.

In truth, Jarlaxle was unsure if the assassin would be along at all. They hadn't spoken since their argument in the hallway the day before.

His uncertainty was laid to rest as he spotted the assassin approaching the crowd. Jarlaxle removed his hat and waved it in the air with great enthusiasm, grinning broadly at his associate.

Entreri acted as though he didn't see the mercenary until he was right next to him.

"Well met," Entreri murmured to the group in general.

"Excellent!" said Harkle, clapping his hands with delight. "Is everyone gathered?"

The wizard's question was answered with elated shouts from his relatives and Jarlaxle. Catti-brie and Entreri responded far more demurely.

"All right, then," said Harkle, reaching into a small pouch at his waist. He pulled out a large silver coin and held it out to Jarlaxle.

"The inscription on the tails side will send you back here when read aloud," the wizard explained as the drow took the coin from him. Jarlaxle read the inscription silently, chuckled, and passed it off to Entreri to examine.

"Now, then!" said Harkle, clapping his hands together for attention and silence.

All the wizards took a step back from the mercenaries as Harkle was handed an enormous book by one of his relatives.

"Wait!" said Catti-brie.

Nearly everyone present seemed annoyed by the princess's intrusion. Harkle looked confused.

"M'lady...?" he said.

Catti-brie ignored him, stepping forward to address Entreri directly. She looked him in the eye for a moment, then handed him a small package that she had been holding behind her back.

"I trust ye," she said quietly, then turned away from him to join the wizards standing a safe distance from the spellcasting.

"May we continue?" asked Harkle. He looked back to his book when Catti-brie nodded.

Entreri and Jarlaxle stood close together as Harkle chanted. He had gone on for several moments when another of his cousins stepped forward and sprinkled pepper in front of his face.

With a mighty sneeze from Harkle, the mercenaries disappeared in a blinding flash of light accompanied by a sizable plume of smoke. They left behind a small, smoldering crater where they had been standing.

Harkle rubbed his nose on a purple handkerchief. "Well, that's that," he said.

***

Entreri felt his knees buckle as his feet hit earth, but he regained his balance quickly and blinked to remove the aftereffects of the flash from his eyes. Looking to his left, he saw Jarlaxle standing just a few feet away. The drow had removed his magnificent hat and was now shaking the ringing from his ears.

The drow felt the assassin's gaze and smiled, re-donning his hat.

"I've had worse journeys," said Jarlaxle, leaning over slightly to plant his palm on the trunk of a young tree. "You?"

Entreri ignored him and examined his new surroundings. They were in the middle of a small copse of trees. Just beyond what passed for a tree line, he could see several large buildings, apparently made from gray stone and assembled with very blocky architecture, so each building resembled nothing so much as a giant brick.

"No sign of our wayward ranger," Jarlaxle noted, squinting at the morning sun. "Shall we being knocking on doors and asking if he has been seen?"

"Where are we?" Entreri muttered.

Jarlaxle put a hand to his chin thoughtfully and turned himself around in a slow circle to take in a complete view of his surroundings. "I haven't the faintest idea," he concluded, sounding not at all upset by the notion.

Entreri sighed and moved towards the tree line. He couldn't tell whether or not Jarlaxle's door-to-door suggestion had been facetious, and quite frankly, he didn't care. Perhaps they could find the ranger just by asking. If they found trouble instead, well, Entreri knew how to handle that.

The assassin paused, frowning down at the small parcel that was still in his hand. It was a lumpy thing, wrapped in rough cloth and tied with twine. He had a feeling he knew what it was, but it was best to be sure before he went any further.

His deft fingers easily undid the knots in the twine, and he let it fall to the ground along with the cloth. What remained in his hand was his jeweled dagger.

"She returned it," he said softly, and to no one in particular.

Jarlaxle smirked behind the assassin's back, resisting the urge to say, "I told you so," or some variant thereof.

"Shall we explore?" he said instead.

Entreri slid his dagger back into its sheath and turned to watch as the drow caught up with him. Together, they approached the nearest building.

***

Leigh had spent another night in the "tent," and had woken up late for her first class. She decided to skip it altogether in favor of eating breakfast. On her way to the Residential Dining Hall, she passed two men in very strange clothes. She almost said hello to one of them, momentarily mistaking him for Drizzt, but caught herself in time to avert her gaze and stare at the pavement as she hurried along. She knew Drizzt didn't wear a hat like that, or at least, she knew that she hadn't seen one like it lying around the dorm room. Besides, Drizzt's eyes weren't red. She blushed slightly, remembering the incident with the notebook the previous evening. She scolded herself for saying such a stupid thing. Of course the notebook didn't match his eyes. It was clearly purple, whereas his eyes were more of a lavender shade. Thinking of his eyes just made her blush deeper, practically staining her cheeks scarlet. She scolded herself again for harboring a silly crush, and resolved to think no more on him or the stranger with the fabulous hat.

***

It took a little over an hour for the mercenaries to enter the first building and knock on every door within. Behind every door that was answered, there was invariably a bleary-eyed human teen that had never heard of Drizzt do'Urden. More troubling was the looks they got from some of the teens that showed just what they thought of the mercenaries. Clearly, clothing and mannerisms such as theirs were not often seen in this area.

"If that is indeed the case," said Jarlaxle as the mercenaries walked back down the hall to exit the building, "then we can assume that they are not lying. Our dear ranger would stick out like a sore thumb here." He spoke quietly, so as not to re-awaken anyone they had already spoken with. There was no need to be rude.

"The girl outside seemed to recognize you for a moment," said Entreri.

"Or thought she did," added Jarlaxle. "Yes, we should try to find her again. She could prove far more fruitful than a hundred more doors." He grinned, turning his head to catch the assassin's eye. "You can track the girl easily enough; I'll handle the doors. I should be done with them before the sun reaches its zenith. We can meet back in the woods then."

Entreri did not question the mercenary's plan. He knew that Jarlaxle's temperament was more suited to endless door-knocking. Nodding his agreement, he left the building.

***

Leigh breakfasted alone, as she did every day, toasting a bagel at the food bar and then munching on it while she read a book. Usually she could count on the other students leaving her to her own devices, but today another girl sat down across the table for her. The intrusion was not unwelcome.

"Hi, Evka!" said Leigh, smiling brightly as she put down her book.

"Hey, Leigh," said Evka, a short young woman with short black hair. Her fashion choices, including a long tie-dyed skirt paired with combat boots, indicated that she was also an art major. "How's it going?"

"Not bad," said Leigh. "No class until noon."

"Nice," said Evka. "What're you gonna do until then?"

Leigh shrugged. "I could go to the office and hang for a bit."

"You could," Evka agreed. "What're you doing this evening?"

Leigh shrugged again.

"Well," said Evka, "why don't you call me when you're all done with classes, and we can make plans for dinner or something? I haven't seen you in forever."

"Sounds good," said Leigh.

"Awesome," said Evka. "I have to go, I've got an English lecture..."

"See you later," said Leigh, waving as her old friend departed. Leigh herself left shortly afterward, headed towards her on-campus job in the office of the school's second theatre club.

The purpose of the second theatre club, called the Two-Penny Players, was to perform the shows that the school administration had banned the primary theatre club from performing. These shows included but were not limited to _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_,_ The Vagina Monologues_, and _Sweeney Todd_. As such, the club became a sort of haven for the students who were considered wacky even by the liberal standards of the art department, and its office became a between-class hang out spot for its members.

It was a short walk from the residential cafeteria to the Two-Penny office, a walk that had Leigh passing very close to a great number of buildings that had some very convenient and closely-placed balconies, should anyone have wanted to follow her from above. As it was, her stalker found that he fit in fairly well with the crowd as long as he kept to the shadows between and beside the concrete monstrosities. A few people gave his outfit a second glance, but that second glance often revealed the cold, hard stare in his eyes, and after seeing that, everyone left him alone.

And so Entreri followed the girl, about ten paces behind, moving with the crowd of students going to and from classes.

There were a few other people present in the Two-Penny office when Leigh arrived, but they left for their own classes within the hour. Then it was simply Leigh, alone in the small room just off of the main auditorium, lying down on a tattered and filthy couch as she read her art history textbook. Seagulls often perched on the roof just above the office, and they were particularly noisy today. Their cries were almost giving Leigh a headache. After about twenty minutes of trying to concentrate on her book and failing, she got off of the couch and headed over to the window, fully intending to give those stupid birds a piece of her mind, or at least open the window and flail at them with a broom.

There was a man in the window.

Leigh shrieked and immediately ran out of the office, dropping her book on the floor. She flattened herself against the wall outside the office and tried her darndest to stop hyperventilating. She told herself that she was crazy, that she just needed to up the dosage on her medication. People did not go around crouching on balconies with daggers in their hands. There was not a man in the window. There could not possibly be a man in the window. This was exactly like that time at Ashley's tenth birthday party when she saw the ghost walk through the living room. It was just a hallucination, and she'd best not tell anyone about it.

Entreri cursed under his breath. His skills must be slipping, for him to have been so easily seen. Gods knew the girl was loud enough for him to have warning of her approach.

He quickly dropped down to hang off the edge of the balcony, fairly confident that the grayish hue of his skin was enough to disguise his fingers against the stone, so that they could not be seen from the window.

When Leigh finally calmed herself down enough to return to the office, there was no sign of a man on the balcony, at least not that she could see. Still, she no longer felt safe in the office, so she gathered up her books into her backpack and left.

About thirty seconds after she walked out of the office, Entreri climbed back onto the balcony and picked the lock on the window. He wrinkled his nose as he crawled into the room; it smelled of forgotten food and unwashed humans. Granted, it was nothing compared to the streets of Calimport, but it was still unpleasant.

The room itself was almost bewilderingly weird. Portraits on cheap parchment hung all over the walls, showing people in elaborate costumes and garish face paint. A metallic device on a desk in the corner hummed and flickered, displaying runes on the one glassy side facing the center of the room. The carpet was as much dirt as it was fabric, and Entreri could practically smell the diseases breeding in the couch. None of the chairs looked like any of the other chairs, except that they were all in a state of disrepair that would discourage most people from sitting in them. But the weirdest thing of all was the giant human phallus sitting on the very topmost shelf in the corner, about two feet long and reaching proudly for the ceiling. There were runes drawn all over it. Entreri concluded that this was a shrine for a fertility cult and left it at that. He was about to leave the room entirely and follow the girl when he heard footsteps outside.

The assassin quickly reviewed his options. He could go back onto the balcony. He could hide under the desk, or possibly the couch. Or he could live up to his job description and kill whoever came in before even noticed he was there. Alternatively, he could take the newcomer hostage and find out what they knew about Drizzt and the girl.

The last option seemed the least messy and most useful.

The door opened, and in walked a young man with short, spiky black hair and a face full of metal. Entreri lunged forward and grabbed the lad's shoulder, holding him in place while his other arm quietly closed the door.

To Entreri's bewilderment, the lad seemed unperturbed by this action.

"Oh, hey," he said, "you here for the auditions?"

Entreri said nothing, just stared hard into the young man's face.

"My name's Austin," the young man went on. He started to smile, but gave up on it as he studied Entreri more closely. "Well, I might as well not bother auditioning now. You're already in costume; that'll impress Brian. He likes it when we don't have to pay for costumes. He likes it when we don't have to pay for anything, actually."

Entreri released Austin's shoulder and took a small step back. The idiot had given him a perfect alibi for being here. It would seem that the fertility shrine was home to a performing troupe, and the assassin was, as Austin had put it, "already in costume."

"The auditions are this evening," said Austin, taking the other man's silence as encouragement to keep talking. "Room seven in the liberal arts building at five o' clock."

"Thank you," said Entreri after a brief period of awkward silence.

"No problem," said Austin, finally managing a grin.

"Excuse me," said the assassin. He brushed past Austin and walked out of the office. Hopefully the girl's trail had not yet gone cold.

***

Austin reached down to pick up a quarter from the cluttered floor. As he held it closer, he realized that it wasn't a quarter at all, but some other coin. The heads side had a picture of a smiling man with an enormous hat. He turn the coin over to the tails side.

"'In Mercenaries We Trust'?" he read aloud, raising one pierced eyebrow.

There was a flash of light and a plume of smoke, and where Austin had been, there was only a smoldering crater in the cement floor.

***

Leigh found herself walking faster and faster as she got further away from the office, eventually jogging by the time she got to the woods that separated the dorms from the main campus.

The jog of an unathletic young woman was no match for the stealthy run of an assassin. Entreri had no trouble keeping up with her. He had less trouble catching up to her. Soon he would overtake her.

The girl had seen him. He needed to silence her before she spoke to anyone about his presence.

With a twitch of his legs, he leapt forward and tackled her to the ground, his hand over her mouth and his dagger at her throat.

Leigh never saw it coming. All she knew was that one minute she was vertical, and the next minute she was horizontal. She was briefly reminded of all those times she was hit in the head with a basketball during recess as a child. The childhood memories vanished from her mind when she fully realized that the weight on her back was a man, and the sharp pain at her throat was a knife.

"Don't move," her assailant warned her.

Leigh thought about all the self-defense classes she had taken during gym in high school. She bitterly noted how absolutely useless they were now.

"I'm going to uncover your mouth," the man continued. "If you make any fuss, I will not hesitate to kill you."

Leigh didn't want to believe him. All her life, she had been taught that violent people were mostly bluffing. That they were really just sad people who felt out of control, and they didn't really want to hurt anyone.

The man's hand left her mouth. She tried to speak, to tell him to just take her bag, that her wallet was in her jacket pocket, that her cell phone was a useless pink brick but if he wanted that he could take it too. She couldn't even will her mouth to open, much less talk. Tears welled up in her eyes and streamed silently down her cheeks as she finally realized how totally helpless she was.

The man's weight was off of her now. His knife was away from her throat. Leigh didn't even think about getting up, much less running. For now, she was more than content to lie in the dirt and cry.

Entreri could barely keep from rolling his eyes at the girl's pathetic display.

"If you answer my questions," he said, "I won't kill you."

The girl made no indication that she was listening. He crouched down next to her to make sure that she heard his words.

"Tell me everything you know about Drizzt do'Urden," he said, "and I will let you go free without a scratch."

Now she was listening. He saw her eyes immediately focus on his face. There was no doubt that she recognized the name.

Leigh tried again to open her mouth, this time to spill all the information the man wanted... but she was still too terrified.

"Where is he?" asked the assassin.

Leigh panicked. He was going to kill her. Here he was, willing to let her go, and here she was, willing to talk, but through some horrible twist of fate, she was too scared to speak. She worked her jaw and her brain, trying to calm down, trying to get her mouth open.

Sunlight flashed off of the blade of his knife as he whipped it out and showed it to her again.

"Where is Drizzt do'Urden?" the assassin demanded. "Do I have to start taking off fingers?"

That killed Leigh's concentration. She unconsciously balled her hands into fists and started crying all over again.

"Artemis!" shouted a voice up the path.

Entreri's head shot up at the sound of his first name. It was Jarlaxle, swaggering soundlessly down the path towards him and his captive.

"You're scaring the poor thing!" said the drow, motioning with his hands for Entreri to back off. "There, there, now, it's not so bad. My friend just likes to make an impression on people."

Entreri rolled his eyes and sheathed his dagger as he stepped away from the girl. Jarlaxle immediately took his place, putting a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Come now, he'll not hurt you, he's all bark and no... Well, some bite, yes, but not for you." Jarlaxle grinned over his shoulder at the assassin. "Sit up, there's a good girl."

Leigh managed to stop her crying and move as the nicer man directed her to. She hiccuped a little and looked at him, totally confused. He smiled at her.

"My name is Jarlaxle," the drow introduced himself with a courtly nod and a tip of his enormous hat. "Artemis and I were just trying to find our friend. Could you tell us where he is?"

Leigh finally got her mouth open.

"Classes get out soon. People will be coming through the woods any minute," she said, surprising herself. She had intended to tell them how to get to her room, and then beg for mercy. Bravery was not a trait that she assumed she had. Perhaps she could get away alive without betraying Drizzt after all.

"Really?" said Jarlaxle. "Well, we can't have that. Come with us," he said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up. "We'll find a more private place to chat."

Leigh followed his directions to the letter, going with the men off of the path and deeper into the woods. It seemed her bravery only went so far.

***


	10. Big Kitty

Harkle Harpell was peacefully asleep in his bed in the Ivy Mansion, satisfied with the job he had done of rescuing Drizzt do'Urden.

Not everyone was quite so satisfied.

"HARKLE!" Catti-brie shouted as she pounded her fist on the door to the wizard's bedroom.

Harkle snapped out of his slumber and jumped out of bed, tangling his legs in his bedsheets and nearly falling face-first onto the floor.

"A moment, please!" said Harkle as he unwound his limbs from his sheets.

"No!" said Catti-brie. "Ye don't get a moment. I want this door open now, and I want answers!"

Harkle finally managed to make his way over to his door and save it from a severe pummeling by Catti-brie's fists. As soon as the wizard was in her sights, Catti-brie grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into the hallway. She had dragged him several feet down the hall before Harkle had time to speak up.

"I beg your pardon!" he said, pulling away from her. "What exactly is going on here?"

"The mercenaries didn't come back," Catti-brie said, not looking at the wizard but staring straight ahead as she marched him down the hall.

"Well, of course not!" said Harkle. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours! These things take time, m'lady-"

"Someone else did," said Catti-brie.

"Did what?" asked Harkle.

"Someone else came back," said Catti-brie, "instead of the mercenaries."

"...What?" said Harkle.

Catti-brie, too angry to speak, ignored the wizard's question.

Finally, they arrived at the Fuzzy Quarterstaff, where a great number of Harpells had gathered around a young man. He was apparently human, with dark hair and a wide smile, talking animatedly to the curious wizards. Much of his face was taken up by silver piercings.

Catti-brie grabbed Harkle's arm again and elbowed her way to the front of the crowd. She pointed at the young man and turned to Harkle.

"Who is that?" she demanded.

"I'm Austin!" the young man said.

Harkle shrugged. "It would seem that he is Austin," he said.

Catti-brie was not amused. "How did he get here?"Harkle turned to Austin for the answer.

"I asked _you_," Catti-brie said, glaring at Harkle. "Why is he here, and why does he have this?" She held up a silver coin, one side engraved with the words "In Mercenaries We Trust."

Harkle squinted at the coin, and his face fell. "Apparently, we shouldn't have," he murmured softly.

"What?" said Catti-brie.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing!" said Harkle, turning away from Catti-brie to face the boy. "Tell me, Austin, how did you get here?"

"Picked up the quarter," said Austin.

"The... what?" said Harkle.

Austin pointed at the coin in Catti-brie's hand.

"Ah, yes, the... quarter," said Harkle. "Right. Do you know a drow by the name of Drizzt do'Urden, by any chance?"

Austin perked up. "Yeah, I know Drizzt! He's from Oregon, auditing classes with Corey."

Harkle opened his mouth to ask another question, but Catti-brie shushed him.

"Start from the beginning," she asked Austin. "Where did you come from?"

***

Corey hadn't gone to any classes that day. Consequently, neither had Drizzt. Both stayed in the dorm room from dawn until dusk. Drizzt entertained himself by reading Corey's art history tome. He found it fascinating, as it provided much information about his new surroundings, but he still felt as though he would go out of his mind from the inactivity. Corey had been more than content to sleep in until noon, then spend the rest of the day sitting on top of her bed with her laptop. Finally, just after the sun set (which poor Drizzt had to watch through the window), Corey's cell phone buzzed in her pocket.

"Yo," she said, answering it. "Who? No, I haven't seen her. Yeah, I'll tell her when she gets in. I'm sure she's fine. Okay. Bye."

"Who was that?" Drizzt asked.

"Some chick Leigh knows from back home," said Corey, going back to her laptop. "She thinks Leigh's missing."

Drizzt sat up straighter. "We haven't seen Leigh all day."

"Yeah, that's what I told her."

"Shouldn't we be looking for her?" said Drizzt. He could hardly believe that Corey was so nonchalant.

"Oh please," said Corey, not even looking at the drow as she talked to him. "People don't go missing around here, Drizzt. There's no goblin raids or whatever. She'll show up eventually."

"Does Leigh often stay out well into the night?" Drizzt asked.

Corey frowned at him, and probably would have replied if her cell phone hadn't buzzed again.

"What now?" Corey answered her phone. "Huh? Oh, hey man, sorry. Thought you were gonna be someone else. Yeah, I got some. Meet you behind the dorm. Ten minutes. 'Bye."

"Leigh?" said Drizzt hopefully.

"No, it was not Leigh," said Corey, scowling as she shut her laptop and set it aside. "Look, if you're really that worried about her, I'm not going to stop you from going out and trying to find her. Me, I'm going on a walk. See you later." She hopped off her bed, grabbed a small package out of a drawer in her desk, and left.

Drizzt sighed. Corey had been touchy ever since the drawing class. Still, he'd have to be insane to pass up the chance to leave the room and walk around outside. He picked up the pouch containing Guenhwyvar and briefly considered bringing along his scimitars as well, but ultimately he left them behind. Earlier in the week, Zedric had explained to him the strictly enforced laws against the possession of weapons on campus.

Drizzt wished he had brought his cloak as soon as he stepped outside. The air was chillier now that the sun had gone down. He kept to the shadows as he made his way around the building. His initial attempts to track Leigh proved futile, as her footprints had been walked over many times in the hours since her departure. But he did find some interesting prints that bore great resemblance to those left by his own boots. Drizzt crouched in the dirt next to them and frowned with concentration. As far as he knew, he was the only person in this area who wore Faerûn-style footwear. Hope flickered inside him - perhaps his friends had come after him! - but it was quickly doused by further examination of the prints. He knew the tracks of his friends well, and these were not left by them.

Had he been a less stoic person, Drizzt might have sighed with a mixture of frustration and disappointment as he stood up. As it was, he merely dropped a hand to the pouch he had tied to his belt and retrieved the onyx figurine within.

"Guenhwyvar," he called. "Come to me, my shadow."

Black fog swirled around the drow's knees until it formed a panther, who nuzzled them fondly before putting her paws up on Drizzt's chest and glaring at him.

"Yes," the drow admitted, finding it mildly difficult to breathe with half the panther's weight on his chest, "it has been too long, hasn't it? I'm sorry."

Guen seemed to accept his apology, or at least she removed her paws from his chest. She paced around for a bit in front of him, then looked up expectantly.

"I'm looking for a friend," the drow explained, crouching down to the panther's level and giving her a scratch behind the ears. "You haven't met her, but perhaps you could help?"

The panther yawned, but Drizzt knew that she would, indeed, help.

With that, the drow and the cat set off, running silently between buildings, and then, when that search proved fruitless, over the tops of them.

It was while he was crouched on the top of the dormitory, considering his next move, that Drizzt heard Corey's voice.

"What the fuck, man?" she was saying. "Why are you doing this?"

"Put it down and walk away," a male voice replied. "The bag and your wallet. Now."

"Fuck you!"

Drizzt crept silently to the edge of the building and peered down. Corey stood about ten feet away from a young man that Drizzt did not recognize. They appeared to be in the midst of a stand-off.

"We had a deal, John!" Corey protested.

"Deal's off," said the man.

"Fine then," said Corey. She turned her back to the young man and began to walk away.

John took out something from his jacket pocket and aimed it at Corey. It was about the size of a miniature crossbow, and he held it in much the same manner.

"Get back here," he demanded, "or so help me God, I'll shoot."

Corey stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly, she turned around.

"You're insane," she said, almost too softly for Drizzt to hear.

But Drizzt had heard and seen enough. He jumped off the edge of the rooftop, landed briefly on a balcony, then jumped from there down to the ground, rolling as he landed to absorb the impact. The drow's sudden, silent entrance surprised Corey's attacker long enough that he didn't take immediate action. That was all the time the drow would have needed, if he intended to kill the man. As it was, Drizzt's first priority was to get Corey out of danger. He ran at the girl and tackled her to the ground, off the path and into undergrowth that would provide some cover. That done, he turned around, intending to attack this "John," scimitars or no scimitars.

The weapon in the man's hand flashed.

The sound was loud. It cracked the air, making Drizzt's ears ring. More important than the ringing of his ears, though, was the pain in his left shoulder.

Drizzt ignored both of them and zigzagged as he ran towards Corey's - and now his - attacker.

He never got there.

***

All things considered, Leigh was not having the best of days. At the moment, she was in the middle of the woods, at night, with her hands tied behind her back while two strange men went through her backpack. To her ultimate shame, a gag was not necessary. Her fear was enough to keep her quiet. Unless, of course, her captors demanded an answer.

"What is this?" said the darker man, who had identified himself as Jarlaxle. He was holding up a small, pink object.

"Eraser," said Leigh.

"And what does it do?" Jarlaxle asked, holding the eraser closer so he could get a good look at it. There were runes on the object which spelled out "Pink Pearl," a phrase that held absolutely no meaning for the drow.

"It erases things?" said Leigh. So far, all of her captors' questions had been, well, really _weird_. It was almost like they were toying with her, asking such inane things, but it seemed as though they genuinely didn't know the answers.

Jarlaxle pursed his lips thoughtfully. He considered trying out this "eraser" on Artemis, but ultimately thought better of it. If it did work, he would be without a traveling companion. If it didn't work, he would have a pissed-off traveling companion.

"Define 'things,'" he asked the girl.

"Um... pencil lines?" said Leigh.

"And what is a pencil?" asked Jarlaxle.

"What is _this?_" Entreri asked, his cold tone immediately erasing Jarlaxle's question from Leigh's mind. It took her a minute to compose herself enough to answer him.

"That's my cell phone," she said, barely able to keep her voice above a whisper.

Entreri held in his hand an object that looked for all the world like a little pink box. It had a bit of string looped around a hole in one end, from which dangled two miniscule figurines, shaped like small bears and holding little hearts. A little stick also emanated from the same end. The end of the box itself was hinged. Entreri opened it and was greeted by light coming from both halves of the box. The bottom half had numbers, while the top half had a portrait of Leigh with another girl.

"What does it do?" the assassin asked, staring at the portrait.

"It... it calls people," said Leigh.

The assassin immediately snapped the cell phone shut, glaring at the girl. Jarlaxle held out his hand for the object, but Entreri ignored him.

"How does it work?" Entreri asked.

Right now, all Leigh was concerned with was keeping her mouth working.

"W-well, first you open it," she said. "Then you push the buttons and... it calls people. On their cell phones. The signal goes from one phone to another and you can talk to them. The people with phones."

"So these cell phones are common," Jarlaxle concluded.

Leigh nodded. "Most of us have them."

"And who is 'us?'" Jarlaxle asked with an encouraging smile.

"College students," said Leigh. "We use our cell phones to keep track of each other."

"So," said Entreri, "one of your friends could be using this to track you. Right now."

Leigh's eyes went wide with terror.

"No," she said quickly. "Not unless they called me."

"Do you expect anyone to call you?" said the assassin.

Leigh thought back to earlier in the day, to the promise she had made to Evka over breakfast. She said she would call once her classes were over, which was usually around six-thirty or seven. Leigh had no idea what time it was now.

"No," Leigh lied.

The assassin simply glared at her. He carefully placed her cell phone on top of a nearby rock.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Leigh nodded.

Entreri studied her face. "I don't believe you," he said. With that, he picked up another rock and used it to smash her cell phone to smithereens.

***

Drizzt was almost close enough to throw a punch at John, but he never got the chance.

With a deafening roar, Guenhwyvar leaped from above and landed on top of John, throwing him flat against the curb. Then she tore a chunk out of his shoulder with her teeth.

"Guen!" Drizzt cried. The panther glanced back at the drow, then stepped off of her prey. John was too busy screaming and clutching at his shoulder to run off. Guenhwyvar padded over to the drow, bumping her head against his leg and staring up at his shoulder with a look that, on a human face, would surely have expressed concern.

Drizzt caught the hint and glanced over at his left shoulder himself. Even in the darkness, he could tell that it was bleeding profusely. He put his right hand over it to staunch the flow and walked over to check on Corey, who was now emerging from the bushes with all the grace of an orc.

"What the fuck is going on?" she shouted over John's screams of agony. "Drizzt? When did you get here? And what is--"

Her eyes locked on Guenhwyvar, who was now nonchalantly licking her paws.

Corey's jaw dropped open. "Big kitty," she said, her voice soft with awe.

"Corey," said Drizzt, grimacing slightly, "this is Guenhwyvar, an old friend. Guen, this is Corey, a new acquaintance."

"Nice to meet you," Corey said to the panther, her eyes still wide as dollar coins. Guenhwyvar glanced at her briefly, then went back to grooming.

Drizzt looked back over to where John lay, or rather, had lain. The man had finally come to his senses and gotten up. He looked from the drow to the cat, then legged it.

"Let him go," Drizzt said to Guenhwyvar, who didn't look all that interested in pursuit anyhow.

"What's wrong with your arm?" Corey asked. "I heard a shot..."

Drizzt removed his hand and glanced at the wound underneath.

"You're hit!" Corey cried. "Jesus Christ, you got shot!"

"So it would seem," Drizzt mused, wincing.

Corey put her hands on either side of her head. "Oh man, we can't even take you to a doctor! What are we going to do?"

Drizzt ignored her, focusing instead on a distant wailing sound. Corey heard it as well.

"And now the cops," she said, trading in her momentary panic for disgust. "Awesome. Come on, back to the room."

"We haven't found Leigh yet," Drizzt pointed out as Corey took his uninjured arm and began pulling him towards the building. Guenhwyvar got to her feet and growled at the young woman.

"We're not gonna find her with cops crawling all over the place," said Corey. "We need to get inside."

Drizzt gave up and let Corey lead him through the side entrance, Guenhwyvar following them silently.

Amazingly, they met no one on their walk up the stairs to the dorm room. Corey unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting both the drow and the cat inside. She closed the door after them and went over to her desk, opening the bottom drawer and putting the package she still carried back inside it.

"What is that?" Drizzt asked her.

"Never you mind," said Corey.

"Is it worth dying for?" said the drow.

Corey paused for a moment, watching Guenhwyvar pace the room.

"...Not really," she said finally.

Drizzt sighed and sat down on Leigh's bed.

"It's just some weed," Corey said after another pause, leaning her back against her own bed and folding her arms over her chest. "Dunno why John was so fucking desperate for it anyway. Crazy motherfucker." She looked over at Drizzt, who was sitting quite patiently, his hand clamped tight on his shoulder.

"Sorry," said Corey, unfolding her arms and walking over to her bureau. She dug out a few clean handkerchiefs and walked over to the drow. "Can I see?"

Drizzt removed his hand, revealing a rather shallow gouge in the surface of his shoulder, about two inches long.

Corey let out her breath in a sigh. "Well, that's not so bad," she said, tying a handkerchief around Drizzt's shoulder and tightening it until he winced. "Sorry. Looks like it just grazed you."

"What was it?" Drizzt asked.

"A bullet," said Corey, readying another handkerchief. "Fired from a gun. Damn, this is a bleeder," she added, tying the second handkerchief over the first. "Need to call Zedric over, get some fucking gauze. And hydrogen peroxide, while we're at it."

"Some what?" said Drizzt, starting to feel a little dizzy.

"Stuff to stop the bleeding and stuff to keep it from getting infected," said Corey. She noted Drizzt's nodding head and labored breathing. "Here, why don't you lie down while I call him."

Drizzt worried somewhat about the mess he was making on Leigh's bed, but lying down sounded like a very good idea at the time. Guenhwyvar padded over to them and growled low in her throat.

"Quiet," said Corey. "If anybody hears you, we're all in deep shit."

Drizzt stared at the ceiling, dimly noting the sensation of Guen nuzzling his hand. He patted her on the head while Corey made her phone calls.

"Zed?" said Corey into her phone. "Listen, I need a lot of gauze, and a lot of medical tape, and some hydrogen peroxide. The fizzy stuff. Look, run to Target if you have to, just get it and get over here. I'm at my room. Nevermind why, just do it!"

***

Leigh stared in horror at the shattered remains of her cell phone.

"Where is Drizzt do'Urden?" Entreri asked her.

Leigh had been waiting to hear that question again, but the sudden destruction of her only means to get help distracted her.

"What?" she said.

Entreri drew his dagger out of its sheath.

"I don't know!" Leigh added quickly. "What's a Drizzit?"

"You're a terrible liar," said the assassin, "and you're trying my patience."

"Just tell us where he is," Jarlaxle said smoothly, shifting over so he was between the assassin and the girl. "He's our friend, you see, and we're quite worried about him."

Leigh bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes. She hated herself for not being brave enough.

"He lives with us," she said quietly.

Jarlaxle nodded and smiled, waiting for her to continue.

"With me and Corey," said Leigh. "He's Corey's friend."

"And where do you live?" asked Jarlaxle.

"In the dorms," said Leigh. "On the second floor."

"Could you take us there?" said Jarlaxle.

_No!_ Leigh thought. _No, no, no, no, no!_

She hung her head.

"Yes," she answered.


	11. Face to Face

Zedric was in the dark, crouching behind a tree, his fist clenched tight around a plastic grocery bag. The after-hours errand that Corey sent him on was weird enough on its own, but now the campus seemed to be on lockdown. The air raid siren, left over from decades past, was going off, as were the sirens of the police cars patrolling the streets. He knew they weren't looking for him, but the penniless half-elf couldn't help but entertain the notion. Gods knew he hadn't paid for the supplies that Corey requested.

Taking a deep breath, he scurried out from the woods and into the dorms. He banged on Corey's door.

"Who is it?" he heard her ask.

He also heard a loud growl.

"Quiet!" scolded Corey's voice.

"It's Zed," he announced himself. "I've got your stuff. Can I come in?"

The door opened no more than a pinch. Corey's eye appeared in the crack.

"Get in quick," she whispered, then vanished into the room.

Zedric followed her and shut the door behind himself. He gaped at the scene before him.

"What the hell _happened?_"

"I was shot," said Drizzt, who was lying down on Leigh's bed. The blanket beneath him bore dark red stains.

"Corey, what did you--"

"Keep your voice down!" Corey interrupted Zed. "Gimme the bag."

Zedric handed it over. Corey pawed through the contents.

"Oh, fantastic," she mumbled to herself, lifting out the gauze, medical tape, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. "Thank you so much. What do I owe you?"

"An explanation?" Zedric suggested, nervously eyeing the panther that was stretched out on the floor parallel to Leigh's bed.

"In a minute," said Corey, stepping over Guen to get to Drizzt. "Can you sit up?" she asked the drow.

He could. Corey started untying the first handkerchief.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" said Zedric.

"Am I sure I should be trying to keep his whole _arm_ from getting infected?" Corey snapped back. "Uh, yeah, I'm pretty effin' sure."

Drizzt raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry," she said, taking off the second handkerchief. She picked up the hydrogen peroxide bottle. "If my childhood memories are anything to go by, this is going to hurt."

"You were wounded as a child?" Drizzt asked as she unscrewed the cap.

"Oh, yeah," said Corey, pouring hydrogen peroxide onto the gouge in Drizzt's shoulder. It hissed and bubbled as it hit the wound, the excess running down his arm. Drizzt winced, but gave no other indication that he felt pain.

"Skinned knees, skinned elbows, skinned palms," Corey continued, mopping up Drizzt's arm with a washcloth. "And God knows how many times I cut my feet open on glass and nails." She grinned. "I was a pretty active kid."

Drizzt's shoulder had started to bleed again. Corey quickly pressed a wad of gauze against the wound.

"Hand me that tape, Zed," she said.

"Can I have my explanation yet?" Zedric asked, passing the medical tape to Corey.

"I went looking for Leigh," said Drizzt, "while Corey went to meet up with... an acquaintance. I witnessed this man threatening her and I intervened, getting this for my troubles." He gestured to his shoulder as Corey finished bandaging it.

"Okay, and where does the big cat figure in?" said Zedric.

Guenhwyvar growled and lifted her head, glaring at the half-elf.

"Guen," said Drizzt. "This is Zedric, another new friend. Zed, this is Guenhwyvar."

"Where did he come from?" asked Zedric.

"She," Drizzt corrected, "came from the Astral Plane."

Zedric blinked, looking from Drizzt to Corey and back again.

"Full story," he demanded. "Now."

* * *

"...and then, poof! Here I am."

The crowd of Harpells was absolutely silent as Austin concluded his tale. Finally, Catti-brie spoke.

"Harkle," she said, "can ye send him back?"

"Well, yes," said the wizard, "but why?"

"So he can fetch Drizzt," said Catti-brie.

"Ah," said Harkle, tapping the tips of his fingers together, unable to look Catti-brie in the eyes. "About that..."

Catti-brie glared at him. "What about it?"

"Well, sending him there is no trouble," said Harkle, "but bringing him back here is problematic."

"How so?" said Catti-brie. "Just use the coin."

"We can't," said Harkle. "The coin was only good for one trip, after which the enchantment wore off. We didn't expect to have to use it more than once."

Catti-brie sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Can ye enchant it again?"

"Well..."

"Quit yer welling and gimme an answer!" said Catti-brie.

"No," Harkle admitted. "It can only be enchanted once."

"Do ye have another coin?" Catti-brie sighed, her disappointment in the wizard's methods evident on her face.

"Not on hand," said Harkle, "but we can make another."

"And how long will that take?"

Harkle tapped his fingertips together a little faster than before, and gave her no reply.

"How long?" Catti-brie growled, stepping forward and putting her face directly in front of the wizard's.

Harkle shrunk back, wincing as he told her, "Four months."

It took Catti-brie a moment to digest the wizard's proclamation. When it did register, she stepped back, knowing that if she had the wizard within arm's reach she would throttle him.

"Well," she said, when she had regained her composure. "Ye'd best get right on it, then, hadn't ye?"

Harkle nodded enthusiastically and ran off to consult with his relatives.

* * *

"Okay, so, in summary," said Zedric, pacing back and forth between Leigh and Corey's beds, "Corey's a drug dealer, a job went wrong, Drizzt ran in to save the day and got shot, so his magical kittycat got called in to save his ass. Now the campus is on lockdown thanks to gunshots and maulings, and in other news, Leigh is missing. Did I leave anything out?"

"I'm not a drug dealer," said Corey, seated comfortably on the end of Leigh's bloodstained bed and. "I just like sharing happiness."

"Happiness," Zedric snorted. "Right. At any rate, you're sharing in exchange for _money_, so that makes you a dealer."

"It's not like I grow it," said Corey, crossing her arms.

"We still don't know where Leigh is," Drizzt pointed out, trying to get the teens back on topic. He was feeling better, but still lying down. He'd sent Gwenhwyvar away to rest; too many hours away from the Astral Plane tired her out.

"Look, I'm telling you guys," said Corey, "don't worry about Leigh. She's fine."

"Oh really?" said Zed. "She disappears all the time?"

Corey opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by the tinny buzzing of her cell phone. She whipped it out of her pocket with an exasperated sigh and flicked it open.

"Hello?" she said. "No, I haven't seen Leigh! She'll get back here eventually and I'll tell her to call you as soon as I see her, all right?"

There was a knock at the door. Corey waved at Zed to open it. Zedric rolled his eyes and walked over to the door, opening it after a brief look through the peephole. On the other side of the doorway stood Leigh, flanked by two men.

"Oh, great, here she is now," said Corey, peering around Zedric to see through the doorway. She held out her cellphone, intending for Leigh to step forward and take it.

What Leigh did instead was unexpected by all.

After letting her eyes flick over the scene in front of her, she darted past Zedric into the room, yanked open her desk drawer, and took out a common carpenter's hammer. She whirled around to face the men still in the doorway, holding the hammer as though ready to beat someone with it.

"Get the fuck out," she said, her voice shrill with panic.

"Leigh, what?" said Zedric, still holding the door open.

"Close the fucking door!" Leigh shouted as Drizzt literally jumped off of her bed and retrieved his scimitars from under it.

Zedric hurried to obey, but Entreri was by far the faster. He easily pushed the door open and held it that way for Jarlaxle to enter the room after him.

"Now you may shut the door," he told Zedric. The assassin's voice chilled the half-elf to the bone.

"I'm gonna have to call you back," Corey whispered into her phone, then shut it and slipped it back into her pocket.

"We're not here to hurt anyone," Jarlaxle announced to the assembled company, holding his hands out to quell any objections.

"Like hell you're not!" said Leigh, brandishing her hammer. "Corey, get your butterfly out and shank him!"

"What have you done now?" Drizzt asked Jarlaxle, his scimitars in his hands.

"Nothing at all!" said Jarlaxle, raising his hands a little higher in a position of surrender. "We merely asked this delightful young woman where we could find you, and she graciously led us here."

"That one jumped me!" Leigh shrieked, waving her hammer at Entreri. She shrunk back immediately at the look the assassin gave her, but kept talking. "Then they tied me up and dragged me into the woods and smashed my cell phone and they made me bring them here and I'm really sorry Drizzt but I didn't know what else to do and I was so scared and WILL SOMEONE FUCKING KILL THEM ALREADY!?"

Corey crossed the room and put her hand firmly over Leigh's mouth.

"We have cops on our ass," she hissed into her struggling roommate's ear. "Now shut the fuck up. If you _have_ to kill someone, do it quiet-like. Okay?"

Leigh nodded, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" Drizzt continued questioning Jarlaxle, ignoring the drama between the two roommates.

"Harkle Harpell sent us here to bring you home," said Jarlaxle, "as per your lady's request."

"Alustriel?" said Drizzt.

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow. "Catti-brie," he said.

Drizzt was taken aback for a brief moment, then nodded. "Why did you bring him?" he asked, gesturing at Entreri with Twinkle.

Entreri stood silently in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at everyone in the room.

"We're partners," said Jarlaxle, as though that explained everything.

Drizzt frowned. "How do I know that you're really working with Harkle?"

"He gave us a coin that will grant us safe passage back to the Ivy Mansion," said Jarlaxle.

"That proves nothing," said Drizzt.

"Oh, come now!" said Jarlaxle, grinning and letting his arms down. "When have I ever hurt you?"

"Many times," said Drizzt.

"Your friends and loved ones, maybe," Jarlaxle said, "but you? Specifically? Personally? Not on my life. Indeed, I believe that if you would just take a moment and examine your memories, you would find that I have saved you from certain peril on a number of occasions."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Drizzt knew that the mercenary was right. After a moment's consideration, he nodded and lowered his scimitars.

"You've still hurt my friends," he said.

"I do not deny it," said Jarlaxle, "but sometimes it is necessary."

A combination of Drizzt's natural stoicism and his knowledge of Jarlaxle's fighting prowess was all that kept him from backhanding the mercenary right then and there.

"Apologize to Leigh," he said, his voice calm.

Jarlaxle was surprised for a fraction of a second, but he answered Drizzt with a wide smile. He turned to face Leigh and swept his extravagant hat from his head.

"I beg your pardon, m'lady," he said, bowing low with much twirling of his arms, "for any wrongs I may have committed against you. I assure you, my only thought was for the safety of our mutual friend."

Leigh could only stare in horror at the drow in front of her, and did not speak.

Jarlaxle stood up and re-donned his hat with a flourish, smiling expectantly at Drizzt.

"You too," Drizzt said to Entreri.

The assassin regarded Drizzt with only his eyes, the rest of him remaining perfectly still.

"Oh, do apologize to the poor thing, Artemis," said Jarlaxle. "You gave her such a fright."

Entreri looked from Drizzt to Jarlaxle and back again. Finally, he turned his gaze to Leigh.

"Sorry," he said. Anyone who hadn't seen his lips move probably wouldn't have heard him.

"There, you see?" said Jarlaxle. "Repentance all around. Now, if Artemis will simply present me with the coin, we can be on our way back to the Ivy Mansion."

"You're leaving?" said Leigh.

Drizzt looked back at her, remembering that she knew nothing about the truth of all of this. It would take hours to explain, and if he intended to go with Jarlaxle and Entreri, he doubted they would want to wait around. He could just leave and let Corey and Zedric fill in the blanks for her, but she had suffered more than either of them for his cause, and without even knowing what it was. His sense of honor forced him to conclude that she deserved an explanation from him, personally.

Speaking of explanations, why hadn't the assassin attacked him yet? Last they had seen each other, Entreri presumed the drow to be dead, killed by the assassin's own hand. He supposed that Jarlaxle had eventually told Entreri the truth of the matter. Still, there was a tension in the air that Drizzt knew would not be easily dismissed.

"The coin, Artemis," said Jarlaxle, interrupting Drizzt's train of thought.

"What coin," the assassin replied smoothly.

Jarlaxle turned around, a slight frown on his delicate features. "I gave it to you before we left the mansion."

"I don't have it," said Entreri.

Jarlaxle laughed. "A clever jest, Artemis. We'll be in the hall," he said to Drizzt, opening the door behind Entreri and gently tugging the assassin along behind him as he went through it.

Zedric shut the door after them and looked through the peephole in the door.

"They're using some kind of sign language," he announced to those left in the room. "I think they're arguing."

"And I bet they can hear you," Corey whispered, glaring at the half-elf.

Drizzt went over to Zedric and gently nudged him out of the way of the peephole. Closing one lavender orb, he watched the mercenaries converse in sign.

_What do you mean, you dropped it?_ Jarlaxle motioned furiously.

_I mean that I dropped it,_ Entreri fumbled the gesture slightly, but Drizzt could tell what he meant. Even the assassin's hands were not quite nimble enough to perform every nuance of the intricate drow code.

_It's probably been spent by now,_ the assassin continued.

_You did this on purpose!_ Jarlaxle accused.

_Of course I did,_ signed Entreri. _When have I ever done anything without intending to?_

Jarlaxle let the rhetorical question slide, his brow furrowed slightly as he considered the assassin's response. _Why did you drop it, then? _he asked.

_You conduct an elaborate ruse to convince me that my sworn enemy is deceased,_ signed Entreri. _Then you confess that he is still alive, and tell me that we are to go fetch him from his latest misadventure and bring him safely home. Did you honestly expect that I would go along with it so quietly? Did you really think that I would let go of Drizzt do'Urden so quickly?_

_You disposed of the coin to buy yourself more time with Drizzt,_ Jarlaxle concluded.

_Yes,_ the assassin signed with a small, cold smile on his face.

Jarlaxle closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. He had thought that the human was past this point of petty rivalries. To have this complication thrust on him so late in the game was...

...exciting.

Jarlaxle returned Entreri's smile with a grin. _And what will you do with the time that you have bought?_

Entreri's hands were motionless.


	12. Secrets Revealed

A/N: Hi guys! Thanks for reading, and I'm sorry for the lack of funny in recent chapters. However, this chapter wraps up most of the drama, and we should get back on track with your regularly scheduled humor.

* * *

"What are they saying?" Zedric whispered.

Drizzt motioned for him to be silent.

"If none of us are making any noise," said Corey, "they're gonna know that we're listening in on them."

Drizzt sighed and nodded, wordlessly admitting that Corey was right. The human girl smiled smugly and turned to her roommate, handing her the cellphone from her pocket.

"Call your friend," she instructed. "Tell her that you're fine."

Leigh gaped in horror at her roommate. "I'm _not_ fine!" she protested. "I'm tired, and I'm scared, and I've been taking orders all day and I'm sick of it. I was kidnapped, for chrissakes!"

"And Evka does not need to know any of that," said Corey, her voice absolutely calm.

Leigh felt like she would burst into tears again, but she had none left to shed.

"I can't tell anyone, can I?" she said quietly.

Corey didn't answer her.

"I can't tell Evka," Leigh went on. "Or my parents, or my therapist, or the police."

Corey nodded.

"Why?" Leigh asked.

"Because it's a secret?" her roommate replied.

"Oh, fuck you, Corey!" said Leigh, throwing the phone back at her. "If I have to keep this a secret for the rest of my life, you can at least tell me why it's a secret!"

"Drizzt's an elf," said Zedric.

Drizzt whipped his head around to join the conversation, now that it involved him, and now that Zedric had blown their secret wide open. Corey looked ready to murder the half-elf. Zedric ignored her and kept his gaze focused on Leigh, trying to gauge how she would react to the news.

"Oh," said Leigh.

"What?" said Corey, gaping at her roommate. "Dude, he just told you that elves are real and all you can say is 'oh?' Why aren't you panicking!?"

"I already knew he had pointy ears," said Leigh. "I had to hold his hair back when he was sick and I saw them."

Drizzt thought back and remembered that night. He almost berated himself for not noticing how calm her reaction had been to what she'd seen then, but he gave himself a break on account of how he couldn't remember being so ill before or since.

"You didn't think it was strange?" he asked her.

Leigh shrugged. "I'm used to seeing things that don't make sense. I figured I just needed to up the dosage on my meds or something."

"Your what?" asked Drizzt.

"Nothing," muttered Leigh, blushing and looking away.

"Well, congratulations," said Corey, throwing her arms into the air. "You're not as crazy as you thought you were. Elves are real, and so are wizards and werewolves and dwarves and halflings and dragons and--"

Drizzt watched Leigh's face carefully, monitoring her reaction, ready to quiet her down if she started panicking again. But on the contrary, she looked like a child that had just been presented with a shiny new toy. Her eyes were wide with absolute delight, and a grin grew onto her features as Corey's list went on.

"--faeries and demons and vampires and giants and goblins and, in conclusion, magic exists," Corey finished.

"What about Santa Claus?" Leigh asked.

Corey slapped a hand over her own mouth to muffle her fiendish cackling. She fell, shaking, to the floor. Drizzt wondered who or what Santa Claus was, but figured that now was not the time to ask for an explanation. He assumed that Corey had the situation under control and turned his attention back to the mercenaries arguing outside the room.

"I was just checking!" said Leigh.

"You're right," Corey sniggered. "Ask about the Easter bunny, too. Ooh! And leprechauns!"

"Fuck you," Leigh repeated, crossing her arms and walking over to sit on her bed. The sight of her blood-covered blankets prompted another shriek.

"What the happened here?" she demanded, backing away from Corey's attempts to shut her up.

"Drizzt got a boo-boo," Corey said, exasperated. "Now can you please panic more quietly?"

"And how did that--" Leigh began, but fell silent as Drizzt turned away from the peephole.

"They want to come back in," he announced. His gaze lingered on Leigh, as though asking her permission.

"Please don't let them," she whispered.

"We have to," said Zedric. "If the police find them out in the hall..."

"Why are the police even out here?" Leigh whined, sitting on the foot of her bed and letting her face fall into her hands, no longer caring about the bloodstains.

"Um," said Corey, tossing her cell phone from hand to hand, "because gunshots were fired and some guy was mauled by a giant cat?"

Leigh glared at Corey before realizing that she was serious.

"What did you do?" said Leigh.

"Drug deal," said Zedric.

Leigh sighed in disappointment. "I told you so," she said to Corey.

"Yeah, yeah, D.A.R.E. and all that jazz," said Corey, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, before we let the Captains Kidnapper and Kidnapper back in, call your friend and tell her not to worry." Corey tossed her phone over and Leigh grabbed it, fumbling the catch slightly. With a forlorn look at her roommate, Leigh opened the phone and dialed Evka's number.

"Hello?" she said. "Hi, Ev. Sorry for not getting back to you. I lost my cell phone in the woods and I spent all day looking for it. No, didn't find it, I'm using Corey's. I'm pretty beat, I think I'll be staying in tonight. Okay. Talk to you later. Bye."

She snapped the phone shut and flung it at Corey, who ducked. It hit the wall and fell down behind Corey's desk.

"What the hell was that for?" Corey said, bending over the desk to retrieve her phone.

"Oh, you wanna know what that was _for?!_" said Leigh, gearing herself up to pitch a fit worthy of the crankiest toddler.

Drizzt held up his hands, silencing the two girls.

"We do not have time for this," he said quietly. "Jarlaxle and Entreri are going to come in now. All right?"

Leigh curled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. "No," she mumbled into her own elbow.

Drizzt sighed and opened the door. Jarlaxle strode in with his head held high and a grin on his face. Entreri slunk into the room after him, his face blank.

"It seems," Jarlaxle said, "that my associate and myself will be needing lodgings. Do you know where we might find them?"

"Not here," Leigh snapped.

"Oh, no, my dear, of course not," Jarlaxle chuckled. "This room is crowded enough as it is. I was wondering if you knew of a larger space we might occupy?"

"Zedric lives in a quad," Corey offered, indicating the half-elf with her thumb. "That's the biggest-size room we have on campus."

"But my roommates already take up space there," said Zed. "It's just as crowded."

"Corpses don't take up much room," said Entreri. Zedric paled visibly.

"Yeah!" said Corey. "You're always going on about how much you hate your roommates, Zed."

"You will not be killing anyone," said Drizzt, and the teens fell silent at the sound of his voice. Drizzt wasn't talking to them, though. He was staring Entreri down as he spoke, his hands slowly coming to rest on the hilts of his scimitars.

"Fine," Entreri said, his face just as blank as it had been when he walked back into the room.

Jarlaxle laughed again. "Of course there won't be any killing," he said, as though the whole thing had been a joke. "We do, however, still need a place to live."

"You can live in the woods," said Leigh. She was so quiet that only those with pointed ears could hear her.

"Do we have a tent?" Zedric asked Corey, who was frowning at her roommate, trying to discern what had been said. Corey pointed under her bed.

"A real tent," said Zed, exasperated.

Corey glanced up at him, then scowled. "They can't live outside. I'm not even sure they can _go_ outside now. The campus is going nuts. Cops everywhere..." Her eyes flicked over to the window and back again. "I think they've got dogs."

"In conclusion," said Jarlaxle, "the only reason we can't set up our own lodgings among the trees is that you think someone will spot us?"

Corey nodded. Jarlaxle laughed again.

"My dear, that's easily overcome! We can even provide our own tent," he said, whipping a wand out of his belt. The action prompted both Drizzt and Entreri to adopt defensive stances. Glancing between the two of them, Jarlaxle chuckled and turned the wand on himself. He murmured a command word and promptly disappeared from sight. Leigh jumped a little and slapped a hand over her own mouth to keep from screaming.

"Now, now," said Jarlaxle's voice, coming from where he had been standing. "There's no need to panic. We will walk into the woods unseen by your law enforcement and set up our camp for the night. Discussion of how to get back to Faerûn can resume in the morning. Hold still, Artemis."

Careful examination of Entreri's face would reveal that there were several hundred things he would rather do than hold still for Jarlaxle, but nonetheless he did not move as a command word was murmured again and he, too, became invisible.

"Is this satisfactory?" said Jarlaxle. It was impossible to tell who he'd directed the question at. Finally, Drizzt answered him with a nod.

"Then we shall be off." The door opened and shut, and then there was silence.

"Are they really gone?" whispered Leigh.

"I think so..." Zedric said, stepping back as Drizzt unsheathed his scimitars and sliced through the air in front of the door. They struck nothing.

"They're gone," the ranger concluded, sheathing his blades but keeping his hands on the hilts. The encounter had rattled him more than he would like to admit.

"Who the hell _were_ they?" said Corey.

"Artemis Entreri," said Drizzt, "and Jarlaxle. An assassin and a mercenary."

"You know them... how?" Corey pressed.

"The assassin has kidnapped my friends several times," Drizzt replied dryly. "The mercenary was a friend of my father's."

"Entreri's fucking legendary," Zedric spoke up, still pale. "He's killed hundreds of people, maybe thousands. None of them ever saw it coming."

"If nobody ever saw him," said Corey, "how do they know he killed them all?"

Zedric scowled at her. "Don't make fun. It's true."

"He exaggerates," said Drizzt, and both teens immediately gave him their full attention. "But there is a ring of truth to his words. Entreri is dangerous. None of you would have a chance against him."

"Would you?" asked Leigh. Drizzt turned around to answer her.

"I could hold him off," he said, "and give you time to get away. We have fought many times and seem to be evenly matched."

"So as long as we stick around you," Corey concluded, "we're safe."

Drizzt nodded, though inwardly, he was less certain. Entreri seemed as attracted to him as iron filings to a magnet. If Drizzt stuck with Jarlaxle and Entreri, they would have no reason to hurt Corey, Leigh, or Zedric, at least not that he could think of.

But it was also apparent that Drizzt's presence was the only thing keeping the three students, particularly Leigh, from becoming paralyzed with fear. They believed they were safer with him around, and he supposed that was enough to keep him here, for now. He owed them at least that.

* * *

Drizzt woke up early the next morning. Leigh had insisted on changing the sheets on her bed the night previous, and even pulled a clean blanket out of her closet. Rolling over, Drizzt propped himself up on his elbow and examined the sheets under himself to make sure he hadn't bled on them. To his relief, they were still clean. He glanced at the floor to where Zedric was curled up inside Corey's sleeping bag. The half-elf had refused to walk back to his dorm, claiming that the double threat of Entreri and the police had him too scared to go outside. Drizzt had offered to escort him, but Leigh was very much against having the ranger out of her sight. Finally, they'd compromised, with all three teens and Drizzt staying in the room. It had taken a while for everyone to fall asleep; Corey was slumbering first, apparently unfazed by the night's events. Zedric managed to fall asleep next, with much tossing and turning. Leigh was last, and though she muffled herself with her pillow, Drizzt could hear her crying until she lost consciousness.

Now, though, Leigh was awake, sitting at her desk and reading something on her computer screen. She glanced at Drizzt as he sat up.

"Good morning," Drizzt said quietly, so as not to wake the others.

"Hello," Leigh whispered back, her voice hoarse. An awkward silence ensued.

"How are you?" Leigh said finally.

"Better than yesterday," said Drizzt, getting out of bed. "Almost as good as new."

"That's good," Leigh murmured. Drizzt put on his one remaining clean and untorn shirt, wincing a bit as he moved his shoulder.

"What are you doing today?" said Leigh.

Drizzt shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "I suppose it depends on what you three are doing."

"...Could you walk me to class?" Leigh asked, biting her lip uncertainly.

"Of course," said Drizzt. He had a feeling that Leigh would not be willing to leave the room without him. He didn't mind escorting her, though. It would give him another class to observe and kill time that would otherwise be spent in a space less than two hundred feet square.

After a brief search in her closet, Leigh found a messenger bag just big enough to fit Drizzt's scimitars, so he could keep them hidden from campus police but still have them on hand for protection. Once Drizzt was equipped with his bandanna and sunglasses, they left the room, with Leigh sticking as close to Drizzt's side as she could without actually touching.

"What class are we attending?" Drizzt asked, hoping that conversation might calm the girl's nerves.

"Art history," said Leigh. She kept shifting her gaze as she walked, trying to be constantly aware of her surroundings. "Modern to contemporary."

As far as Drizzt knew, "modern" and "contemporary" were two words for the same concept. He supposed that he would learn the distinction between them soon enough.

* * *

Zedric woke up later that morning to the sound of someone banging on wood. The half-elf was disoriented and terrified. It took him a minute or so to figure out where he was and remember how he came to be there. By then the pounding was even louder and more insistent. Zed struggled to untangle himself from the sleeping bag and got to a standing position... only to see Leigh's bed empty, and no sign of either her or Drizzt. Corey was still peacefully asleep. Zedric tiptoed over to the door and peeked through the peephole. Entreri and Jarlaxle stood on the other side of the door. Zed yelped and scurried backwards, glancing at Corey's comatose form.

"Wake up!" he whispered, inching towards her.

Corey rolled over and pulled her quilt tighter around herself.

"Corey," Zedric whined, reaching out a hand to shake her awake but withdrawing it before he made contact, remembering how dangerous she could be first thing in the morning.

Corey mumbled something about death and pestilence.

"Drizzt and Leigh are gone and the kidnappers are back and they're going to kill me, damnit!" said Zedric, kicking the bedpost. "Get up, now!"

Corey sat up and glared at the half-elf. She snarled at him, and he shrunk back. Rolling over, Corey opened a desk drawer and pulled out a knife handle, then with a flick of her wrist she split the handle down the middle and folded it back, revealing a blade. She turned the blade on Zedric.

"Why the fuck am I awake?" she growled.

"Assassin?" said Zedric, holding his hands up in a position of surrender. The door shook as it was pounded on again.

"Then open the fucking door," said Corey, rolling over in bed and pulling the covers over her head.

"Corey!" Zedric cried, but just then the door swung open and the mercenaries stepped in.

"Ah, you are awake!" said Jarlaxle, grinning broadly. "Good morning!"

Corey sat up again, staring wide-eyed at the intruders. "Howdy?"

"Quite well, thank you," said Jarlaxle, motioning for Entreri to close the door behind them. "We let ourselves in; hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," muttered Corey, relaxing. "Whaddya want?"

"We came to speak with Drizzt," said Jarlaxle, "though I cannot help but notice that he is absent. Do you know where he went?"

Corey shrugged.

"I know an easy way to find out," said Entreri, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his jeweled dagger.

"He's probably with Leigh," Corey said with a yawn. "She has an early class and she's scared to death of you guys. I wouldn't be surprised if she's making Drizzt be her personal bodyguard. Poor bastard."

"And where would Miss Leigh be?" said Jarlaxle. Corey shrugged again.

"Am I my roommate's keeper?" she asked.

Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow, certain that there was a reference going over his head. He really needed to learn more about this place before any subsequent attempts at conversation. He hated missing out on cultural jokes.

"I suppose not," he said finally. "Nevertheless, if you would be so kind as to help us find them?"

"Drizzt has figure drawing class with me," said Corey. "This afternoon. You can meet up with him there."

"And he will be there?" said Jarlaxle.

"He'd better be," said Corey, her eyes narrowing. "Otherwise I'll kick his ass." She paused. "Or maybe I'll just kick Leigh's ass." She paused again, and glared at Zedric. "Maybe I'll kick _his_ ass for waking me up."

Zedric winced, literally backing into a corner.

Jarlaxle bowed. "My most sincere apologies for interrupting your rest, Miss Corey. Would you mind terribly much if waited here until your class, and accompanied you to your appointment with Drizzt?"

Corey frowned, considering his backhanded offer. "Long as you're quiet," she said finally, and pulled the covers over her head to sleep.

* * *

"That was... educational," Drizzt concluded, following Leigh out of her art history class. Leigh smiled, the first time Drizzt had seen her do so since the arrival of the mercenaries.

"Nineteenth-century Britain pretty much produced the best of everything," she said. "Literature, graphic design, fashion..."

Drizzt nodded absently, wondering about Leigh's taste. Most of what he remembered of the lecture had consisted of massive phalluses hidden away inside otherwise innocuous works of art.

"Aubrey Beardsley is kind of my favorite," Leigh said. "Um..."

Drizzt waited patiently for her to continue. Leigh watched her feet for a moment, then looked up at Drizzt.

"Could you maybe walk me to my next class, too?" she asked, blushing.

"Of course," Drizzt said again. Leigh looked immensely relieved, smiling again.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm just nervous, ever since... you know..."

"It's understandable," Drizzt reassured her. "I'd be worried about you if you weren't afraid."

Leigh nodded. An awkward silence resumed as they walked."What is your next class?" Drizzt asked.

"Quantitative reasoning," said Leigh. "Math for idiots."

"You don't seem like an idiot," said Drizzt.

"Well, I got kidnapped easily enough," Leigh said, a note of bitterness in her words. "I'm probably borderline retarded."

"Entreri and Jarlaxle are masters at their respective crafts," said Drizzt, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. "You could be the fiercest warrior in your land and they would still be able to take you down."

He glanced at Leigh, who was giving him her rapt attention. More than rapt; she seemed to be hanging on to his every word. Drizzt cleared his throat uncomfortably and continued.

"Their brief mastery over you is no reflection on yourself or your abilities," he concluded.

The classroom was smaller than the ones that had housed the colloquium and art history courses. It was about double the size of Corey and Leigh's dorm room and filled with desks and chairs all facing one wall. The wall in question was covered in white board with multicolored runes scrawled on it. Drizzt followed Leigh to a pair of desks in the far corner. Leigh took out a notebook, a pencil, and a small black slab as the professor looked out over the herd of students and called out names.

"Leigh Thomas?" said the professor, and Leigh raised her hand without looking up. The professor nodded and moved on, ignoring Drizzt's presence. Once attendance was taken, the professor turned around and began scribbling madly on the board. The class, all with their notebooks out and pencils at the ready, copied down the runes.

"Do you understand this?" Drizzt whispered.

"Nope," said Leigh, faithfully replicating every mark into her notebook.

Drizzt raised an eyebrow at that, then turned his attention to the professor, determined to learn something from all of this. After half an hour or so of regression functions, logarithms, powers of ten, and a seemingly endless quest for X, the ranger's head was swimming. Looking at Leigh's notes didn't help matters; they were just a messier version of what was on the board, with illustrated margins.

"What is all of this used for?" Drizzt whispered again.

"Absolutely nothing practical," said Leigh.

"Then why...?"

"There's no good reason," said Leigh.

Drizzt had to be content with that answer. He spent the remainder of the lecture staring out the window.

* * *


	13. Problems Solved?

Catti-brie paced the width of her chamber in the Harpell Mansion. She felt so helpless, and consequently, restless. There was nothing she could do to hurry the wizards along, no task she could set herself to that would make their work go any faster. Four months. Not such a long time, she knew, but it felt like forever.

Her circular musings were interrupted by a knock on her door. She furrowed her brow as she crossed the room to open it, wondering what wizard had abandoned his or her work to bother her.

But as it turned out, it was not a wizard. It was the boy, Austin.

"Hi," he said.

"Hello?" said Catti-brie, not entirely clear on why he was visiting.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" said Austin.

Catti-brie backed away from the doorway and motioned for the boy to come in. He did so, sitting down at the unused desk near her window.

"This is really awkward," Austin said as Catti-brie sat down on the edge of her bed, facing him. "But I have some questions to ask you about Faerûn."

"Ask away," said Catti-brie, grateful for the distraction.

Austin nodded. "Okay then. Um, so... magic is real?"

_What an odd question_, Catti-brie said to herself. She'd never thought of it that way before. All her life, she'd taken the presence of magic for granted. To be sure, it wasn't common where she grew up, but she'd always known that it was there.

"Aye," she said aloud.

"Cool," Austin grinned. Catti-brie wondered how he kept the bolts in his lips from scraping against his teeth.

"So," he went on, "are they planning on sending me back?" Another difficult question.

"To be honest, I dinnae know," Catti-brie said with a shrug. "They'll be sendin' someone along in four month's time, when they've prepared a way to bring Drizzt home. But suren they'd send ye back sooner if ye wanted to go. Bringin' Drizzt home isn't your responsibility."

Austin shook his head. "Naw, I'm not in much of a hurry. School wasn't really my thing anyways."

Catti-brie cocked her head to the side, inviting the boy to continue.

"See, all I wanna do is work with metal," Austin said. "And you don't need a degree to do that. An apprenticeship will do just fine. But my mom, she wants me to go to college. Everyone's obsessed with that whole four-years thing. Everybody's gotta have a bachelor's degree. But I mean, come on! Four years of math and English? What for? I already did that in high school, man. I'm done with that. Just give me some fire and rock and I'll be happy as a clam. More productive than a clam, too."

Catti-brie didn't understand much of what the boy had said. At least, not his words. The feelings behind them, though, were familiar.

"Ye say ye wanna work with metals?" Catti-brie said.

Austin nodded. "More than anything! I actually had an apprenticeship all lined up down in New Bedford, but my mom pretty much derailed that plan with her college schtick."

"Are ye any good with it?" said Catti-brie.

"I'm all right," said Austin. "Competent, I guess you could say. I made some of these." He pointed to a few piercings in his ears and eyebrows. "I want to get better, though."

"Y'know, me father owns a mine," Catti-brie said, a smile growing on her features. "He and his workers pull the metal from the rock and shape it."

"Into...?" Austin asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Weapons. Armor. Sometimes jewelry," said Catti-brie, motioning to Austin's face. "Point is, if ye don't plan to go home anytime soon, ye could work there."

"At a forge?!" said Austin, his blue eyes growing wide. Catti-brie fought to keep from laughing at his childlike delight.

"Aye, loads o' forges. 'Course," she said, growing serious, "ye'd have to be willing ter work hard. It's not an easy job."

Austin nodded vigorously. "Of course. Whatever it takes."

Catti-brie smiled. "Well then. Let's see about gettin' a message to me father, and find out what he thinks of all this."

***

For Zedric, the morning passed in a fog of awkward terror. While Corey slept, Jarlaxle quizzed the half-elf on life in the United States of America. Zed answered his questions as best he could while avoiding the gaze of the assassin, who alternated between staring at Zedric and the unconscious Corey. Finally, at about one in the afternoon, she rose from her slumber, stretching leisurely and pulling on the clothes she had worn the day before.

"Are we heading out?" Jarlaxle asked her.

"Like an unwanted fetus," said Corey, pocketing her knife along with a glass pipe and a small metal cylinder. Jarlaxle laughed and held the door open for her.

"Hang on," said Zedric. "You guys still look weird."

"Beg pardon?" said Jarlaxle.

"Your clothes," said Zed. "They're all wrong. You stick out like sore thumbs. You need to wear jeans and t-shirts like everyone else."

"Not everyone," said Corey. "Some of us wear fishnets and miniskirts."

Zedric glared at her. "Okay, but these guys should be wearing t-shirts, at least."

"I presume that you are describing your own outfit?" said Jarlaxle, gesturing at Zedric's shirt.

"Yeah," said Zedric. "It's what everyone wears around here."

"In that case," said the mercenary with a chuckle, "I must respectfully decline your offer of a change of clothes. I find your costumes... drab, at best."

"But everyone will look at you!" said Zedric, exasperated.

"And how is that a problem?" said Jarlaxle. "Being the center of attention was no impediment to us yesterday."

"But–" Zedric began, only to be cut off by Entreri.

"We can pass for actors," he said. "I doubt anyone will ask questions."

"It's settled, then," said Jarlaxle. Zedric didn't protest.

With a tip of his hat, Jarlaxle left the room and closed the door behind him. It took Zedric a few seconds to process what had just happened. Jarlaxle had left with Corey, yes, but the assassin had stayed. Zed was now alone in the room with Entreri.

Zedric used his peripheral vision to look at the assassin. Entreri was still and silent as a statue, but far more menacing than any gargoyle that Zed had ever seen. Zedric swallowed, his mouth dry with fear.

"You're not going to let me leave, are you," said Zedric.

Entreri gave him no answer. He didn't need to.

***

After quantitative reasoning, Drizzt escorted Leigh to the Two-Penny office. He managed to convince her that she would be safe surrounded by her coworkers, and slipped away to attend drawing class with Corey. He found that he honestly enjoyed drawing, and wondered at why he hadn't tried his hand at it before.

As such, he was disappointed to arrive at the classroom only to find a small sheaf of parchment taped to the door. The parchment bore runes announcing that the class had been cancelled. He was about to turn away and go back to the Two-Penny office when he heard footsteps. He adopted a defensive pose but dropped it when he realized that it was Corey approaching him at a jog. Without so much as a "hello," the girl reached around Drizzt to tear down the parchment.

"Disregard that," she said. "Class is on." She opened the door and slipped inside, not even bothering to hold it open for Drizzt. The ranger sighed inwardly and followed her. The classroom looked much the same as it had the first time he had been there, save for the absence of Austin.

"Why was the class cancelled?" Drizzt asked Corey, who was busying herself by setting up her easel.

"Helen's model bailed on her at the last minute," said Corey, ripping a piece of paper out of her drawing pad and handing it over to Drizzt.

"So who will we draw?" said Drizzt. Would one of the students have to strip?

"Don't worry about it," said Corey, taping her own paper up to her easel. "I found a guy."

Drizzt accepted her answer and went to work setting up his own drawing area. A hush fell over the classroom while he was preoccupied with his easel. Looking around it, he saw the cause of the sudden silence.

Jarlaxle was stepping onto the model's stand, his hat replaced by a red bandanna and his body wrapped in a fine, red silk robe embroidered with delicate golden runes. He smiled graciously at the class, then threw the robe off of his shoulders, revealing his slender, tightly-muscled form in all its nude glory.

If Drizzt's skin wasn't as black as the Underdark itself, his face would surely have resembled a tomato at that moment.

"Could you do a contrapposto pose?" Helen asked Jarlaxle.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that term," Jarlaxle said, his tone charmingly apologetic.

"Oh, it's easy," said Helen. "Just put all your weight on one hip."

"Like this?" said Jarlaxle, cocking his left hip and letting the corresponding hand rest upon it.

"Yes, perfect," said Helen. "All right, class, this is Jason. He's going to be modeling for us today. Again, we're going to be concentrating on the torso, so please take special note of his abdominals..."

Drizzt shook his head. Jason. Right. The mercenary hadn't even bothered to remove his eye patch, or the multitude of glittering rings that he wore on his fingers. Combined with the bandanna, he looked very much like a pirate. A naked pirate. With, Drizzt had to admit, very nice abs. The ranger forced himself to forget that he knew "Jason," and to view him as just a body... no, not even a body, just a shape he had to render on the parchment. Steadying himself with a deep breath, Drizzt went to work.

***

"What d'ye mean, he's missin'?" the dwarf king shouted.

Catti-brie sighed down at the image of Bruenor in Harkle's scrying bowl. She'd missed her father. Chancing a glance at Austin, who stood beside her, she saw that the boy had both of his heavily-pierced eyebrows raised in astonishment. Whether it was in reaction to his first experience with magic or her father's temper, Catti-brie didn't know.

"A spell went wrong," Catti-brie explained to her father, directing her voice at the bowl. "Drizzt was sent to another world."

"Can we get him back?" Bruenor interrupted her.

"The Harpells are workin' on it as we speak," said Catti-brie.

The dwarf king scowled; Catti-brie knew how he felt about wizards. He'd had more pleasant experiences with them in the last half-century or so, but cultural bias was difficult to overcome.

"Well, good," Bruenor said finally. "I miss the elf."

Catti-brie smiled. "I miss him, too."

"Who's that, then?" Bruenor asked, pointing a stubby finger up at Austin. The boy's head jerked back, and Catti-brie bit back a giggle.

"This is Austin, father," said Catti-brie, putting an arm around the lad's shoulders. "He comes from the land that Drizzt was sent to."

"Can't be that dangerous, then," said Bruenor, "if he could survive there."

Austin frowned; Catti-brie just laughed.

"He's in no hurry to go back, though," she went on. "There's not enough metalwork there for his liking."

The dwarf king raised his bushy red eyebrows. "Metalwork, ye say?"

"Yes, sir," said Austin, his lip rings clicking against his teeth as he spoke.

"So, ye're a miner?"

"More like a smith," said Austin. "I like to make things."

"Ye got to mine the metal before you can work it, boy," said Bruenor.

"I can do that," Austin said readily.

"We were wondering," said Catti-brie, "if there was room for him at Mithril Hall."

Bruenor was quiet for a moment, sizing the boy up before he spoke. "He'll have to pull his own weight, but we might have room for him. Send him down."

"Thank you, sir!" said Austin, grinning with delight.

Bruenor just grunted and waved a hand dismissively.

***

After about an hour of drawing time, Professor White asked Jarlaxle (or rather, "Jason") to step off of the model stand and had the students turn their easels to the center. Instead of a group critique, however, she announced a ten-minute break, then left to get coffee. The students milled about, conversing with each other, mostly about how much they hated the class. Overhearing these conversations easily with his pointed ears, Drizzt wondered why they were here if they disliked it so much. He didn't have much time to dwell on the question before Jarlaxle, re-robed, came over to inspect his work.

"Nicely done," said Jarlaxle, placing a finger on the parchment and tracing the lines that described his own washboard abs. "You've captured my image well."

"Thank you, 'Jason,'" said Drizzt, keeping his expression blank.

Jarlaxle chuckled, both at Drizzt's use of his fake name and the other drow's overall nervousness. "You're quite welcome. I had no idea that you were an artist with a pencil as well as with a scimitar."

"Do you two know each other?"

If the drow hadn't undergone decades of discipline in the Melee Magthere, they would surely have both jumped in surprise. The speaker was a female student that Drizzt did not know. There was nothing about her that set her apart from the rest - light brown hair, painted face and nails, t-shirt, jeans, sandals, and a tendency to twirl a strand of her hair with her finger while she spoke.

"Distant cousins," said Jarlaxle, smiling politely at the girl as he clapped Drizzt on the shoulder with his hand. Unfortunately, he chose the left shoulder, and even stoic Drizzt had to struggle to keep from wincing.

The girl nodded. "Yeah, you look related." She wandered off to go back to her friends' discussion.

"If you could remove your hand from me," Drizzt said quietly, "I would appreciate it."

"Oh, my dear Drizzt, I am so sorry!" said Jarlaxle, lifting his hand off the ranger's shoulder with a theatrical flutter. "It is 'Drizzt,' isn't it?"

"It has been for some time," said Drizzt.

Jarlaxle laughed again. "You're not doing a terribly good job at blending in, are you?"

The question was rhetorical, and Drizzt felt no obligation to reply. With a curt nod, he pretended to go back to touching up his drawing. Jarlaxle took the hint and sailed away, his scarlet robes billowing in his wake.

***

For most of the afternoon, Zedric and Entreri sat on opposite sides of the dorm room. Entreri stared directly at the half-elf, nearly unblinking, while Zedric's gaze shifted schizophrenically from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, bed to desk and back to floor, anyplace but where the assassin was sitting. Zedric's hands were folded in his lap, his thumbs twiddling madly as he tried to think of ways to get out of this situation alive.

He needed to get rid of the assassin. The assassin wanted to take Drizzt home. Ergo, the sooner Drizzt went home, the sooner the assassin would leave. So the real problem was the same as it had been at the beginning of the week - getting Drizzt do'Urden back to Faerûn. The Harpells in the Ivy Mansion were probably already working on the problem, according to Drizzt, but what could be done from this side of the issue? Zedric didn't know any magic. Leigh certainly didn't. Corey claimed to, but then Corey claimed a lot of things. And as for Merlin...

Zedric blinked, stunned by his own stupidity. Merlin. She had hung around with them earlier in the week, but had any of them thought to ask her about solving their problem? No, of course not. It had slipped all of their minds. And ditzy as she was, Merlin herself probably hadn't even seen Drizzt's presence as a problem at all. Why hadn't Zed thought of asking her before? He smacked his palm against his forehead in frustration.

Now he knew who to call. But how to call her with the assassin watching his every move? Entreri had smashed Leigh's cell phone the minute she explained what it was; no way he would let Zed near a phone. E-mail, maybe? Zedric imagined explaining Corey's laptop to the assassin, then imagined explaining a smashed laptop to Corey. He shuddered. No, he would just have to wait until Drizzt returned to keep the assassin in check.

Zedric sighed. Now that he knew what he needed to do, the wait was even more unbearable. He started tapping the legs of his chair with his foot, but stopped cold at the look Entreri gave him for it.

Fortunately for the half-elf, the agony of waiting was not long-lived. Corey and Jarlaxle returned to the room soon after his realization.

"Where's Drizzt?" Entreri asked immediately upon their entrance.

"Retrieving Leigh," said Jarlaxle, pulling Corey's red chair out from her desk and seating himself gracefully upon it. "He will be here shortly."

"Corey," Zedric whispered, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

Corey raised an eyebrow. The mercenaries turned their attention towards the half-elf.

"...Privately?" said Zed.

"Anything you have to say to her," said Jarlaxle cheerfully, "you can say in front of us." He was smiling, but that only terrified Zedric further.

After six hours of waiting, Zed couldn't stand another minute of it. "We need to call Merlin," he blurted out.

"Why do we..." Corey trailed off, her eyes widening with realization. "Oh. Holy shit."

"Exactly!" said Zedric.

"We are such 'TARDS!" shouted Corey, clutching her skull with her hands.

"EXACTLY!" Zedric repeated.

"If I might inquire," said Jarlaxle, holding up one finger to silence the teens. "Who is Merlin?"

"She's a wizard," said Corey, "and she can probably clean up this whole mess by clapping her hands. How could we be so _stupid?_"

"Well, we don't really have that many classes with her," said Zedric. "And she wouldn't offer her services, because she probably doesn't see Drizzt being here as a problem."

Entreri narrowed his eyes as the teens chattered. This "Merlin" person could easily ruin his plans for not returning Drizzt to Faerûn. He didn't know what he wanted to get out of this situation, not just yet, but he knew he did not want to let it slip through his fingers without taking full advantage of it.

"Okay, chill, guy," Corey told Zed as she retrieved her cell phone from her pocket. "I'm calling her right now."

Zedric found it rather difficult to be "chill" at the moment. Entreri was still staring at him.

Corey frowned as she held her phone to the side of her face. "She's not answering," she said after a few moments of silence.

"Call again!" said Zedric. "Or text her or something. We need her!"

"Why don't we just go to her room?" said Corey, shutting her phone and putting it away.

"You're not leaving," said Entreri, causing Zedric to jump.

"Let's wait for Drizzt and Miss Leigh to arrive," Jarlaxle elaborated. "That way we can all go visit Merlin together."

He was smiling as he said it, as he so often did, but Corey and Zedric were anything but reassured.


	14. Literature Disturbs

Drizzt returned to the dorm room with Leigh in tow shortly after four-o'-clock.

"Good, you're back," Zedric greeted them, having jumped up to answer the door as soon as he'd heard Leigh's key in the lock. "Can we go now?"

"Go where?" asked Drizzt, eyeing Entreri and Jarlaxle.

"Do you remember Merlin?" said Corey.

"She'd be a difficult one to forget," Drizzt said as he crossed the room to sit on the edge of Leigh's bed. Looking back toward the doorway, he was surprised to see that Leigh hadn't followed him in. The girl was still standing at the threshold, hugging her shoulders. Drizzt was puzzled by this until he remembered that Jarlaxle and Entreri were also in the room. No wonder Leigh was refusing to enter; just the thought of being in any proximity to her former captors still terrified her.

"Anyway," said Corey, re-attracting Drizzt's attention. "We're going to pay her a quick visit."

Drizzt raised an eyebrow, but didn't question Corey's proclamation. From what he'd observed, Merlin was a close friend of the other three students. A visit did not seem out of the ordinary.

"Shall we be off, then?" said Jarlaxle, stepping toward the door. Leigh took an equal step backwards, further into the hallway. Jarlaxle smiled at her as he walked past, Entreri following with Corey and Zedric.

"Are you going?" Drizzt asked Leigh.

Leigh shook her head. "Homework," she said.

Drizzt nodded and followed the others. He would never say as much out loud, but he would rather be anywhere on campus than in Leigh and Corey's tiny dorm room.

Merlin lived in one of the other four freshman dorms, across the quad from Leigh and Corey's building. Corey led the way into the building and up three flights of stairs, through the maze of hallways to a door covered in pictures of rabbits.

"This is she?" said Entreri.

Corey looked back at the assassin. "Oh, yeah. You haven't met her yet, have you?"

Without further ado, Corey knocked on the door. A pause, then she knocked again. The third time knocking, she got a response. The door cracked open, much the same way Corey's door had when Drizzt first arrived on campus. An electric blue eye peered out at the gathering of people.

"Howdy," said Merlin.

"Hey there, Merlykins," said Corey. "Can we come in?"

The eye moved back and forth as Merlin shook her head no. "The door doesn't open any more than this. It's blocked by stuff."

"What... Merlin, how do you get in and out?" Corey asked.

"Teleportation," said Merlin matter-of-factly. "I could 'port you all in if you'd like, but I'm not sure there's room for everyone. We might have to sit on laps."

Entreri shot a look at Jarlaxle that succinctly expressed all of his displeasure with the idea. Jarlaxle responded with a grin.

"What if you were to teleport out into the corridor?" said Drizzt.

Merlin's eyeball rolled up to stare at the ceiling as she thought about Drizzt's suggestion. "That would work," she said, and a second later she was standing behind him. Zedric flinched at her sudden appearance, but the rest of the Faerûn contingent was too well-disciplined to react. Corey simply didn't care.

"What's up?" said Merlin.

Jarlaxle removed his bandanna and bowed. "My name is Jarlaxle, and this is my associate, Artemis Entreri. We have heard of your magical prowess, and were wondering if you could be of help to us in some small matter."

Merlin cocked her head to one side, waiting for him to continue.

"Could you, by any chance, send us back to Faerûn?" said Jarlaxle.

"Maybe, maybe not," said Merlin, sing-songing the words. Jarlaxle raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued in a less musical tone. "It all depends on where precisely you want me to put you, and when you want this to happen."

"The Ivy Mansion," said Entreri. "As soon as possible."

Merlin nodded. "All right then. I'll let you know when it is."

"When it is what?" asked Jarlaxle.

"Possible," said Merlin, beginning to move her fingers, tracing runes and signs in the air. Zedric recognized the beginning of a teleportation spell and reached out to grab her hands.

"Could you at least give us an estimate?" he asked.

Merlin scowled down at his fist, addressing her answer to it rather than to Zedric's face. "No, I can't. Magic is tricky on this side of things. I can move myself five feet, but you're asking me to move two persons--"

"Three persons," Jarlaxle corrected her.

"Three persons across worlds," said Merlin. "Either I put myself in a coma trying to get you there and failing, or we wait until the planets align properly and the weather conditions are most amicable, and we travel to a location high in mystic energies."

"And you have no idea when that might be," said Drizzt.

"I know it's not here," said Merlin, ripping her hand out of Zedric's grip, "and I know it's not now. I'll give you a call when I do know." She nodded at Corey.

"That seems reasonable," said Jarlaxle. "What payment do you require?"

"Nerds," said Merlin.

"I beg your pardon?" said Jarlaxle.

"Nerds," said Merlin, making a little rectangle with her fingers. "Tiny, tangy, crunchy candy. Watermelon and apple. No less than five boxes. Twenty would be ideal." She paused for a moment, then added, "Grape is unacceptable."

"We'll get right on that," Corey promised as the crew from Faerûn exchanged confused looks. "Meanwhile, you keep an eye on that weather thing."

"And a weather eye on the horizon," said Merlin. With a nod, she vanished, and the door to her room clicked shut.

* * *

The walk back to Corey's dorm room was quiet, for the most part. Zedric left the group halfway across the quad to go to his own dorm. Once the remainder of the motley crew had reached their destination, Drizzt spoke up.

"Merlin is a wizard?" he asked.

"Yup!" Corey said, unlocking the door and nodding to Leigh, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her laptop balanced on her knees.

"And none of you thought it prudent to tell this to me?" said Drizzt.

"...Oh," said Corey, turning around once she reached her red chair so she could face Drizzt while they talked. "Yeah, sorry about that. Slipped my mind."

"Is there anything else your mind has slipped?" Drizzt prompted, successfully keeping the exasperation out of his voice. He stepped further into the room to give the others space to enter, sitting in Leigh's desk chair.

"Um..." Corey rolled her eyes skyward as she thought. "Well, I'm a witch."

"Really now?" Jarlaxle entered the room, turning his head to face her, delighted curiosity playing across his features.

"Yep," said Corey, falling backward into her red chair.

"And your magics would not be of use in getting me back to Faerûn?" said Drizzt.

"Not really," said Corey. "They're mostly for small stuff. I've got a sweet fire cantrip that I use to light my bowl, but other than that... yeah, not much."

Drizzt wondered briefly why a bowl would need to be lit aflame, but he had more pressing questions at hand. "Anything else?"

"Zed's a half-elf," said Corey, "but you already knew that. Oh! And Leigh's bipolar."

"He didn't need to know that!" Leigh protested, butting into the conversation.

"Well, he sure thinks he needs to," said Corey.

Leigh's mouth tightened angrily, but she had no verbal retort. Drizzt thought it best to let the issue lie, as it obviously caused Leigh embarrassment, but Jarlaxle had no such reservations.

"And what, pray tell, does 'bipolar' mean?" the mercenary asked.

"You wanna take this one, Leigh?" said Corey.

"Just shut up," Leigh grumbled, hunching her shoulders.

"It means she's crazy," said Corey.

"I am not!" cried Leigh. "God, you're such a bitch!"

"Leave her alone," said Drizzt, standing up to act as a border between the two girls, facing Corey. "This is no time for us to be fighting amongst ourselves."

Corey shrugged. "Whatever. I have to go to my metals class now. Anyone want to tag along?" She directed her question more at Entreri and Jarlaxle than Drizzt.

"Will you be needing a model?" said Jarlaxle with a smirk.

"No," said Corey, "but I could use an extra set of hands to hold the copper I'm soldering."

"I'll pass," said Jarlaxle, smiling politely. "Artemis?" The assassin answered him with a glare. Jarlaxle shrugged it off.

"Leigh?" Corey asked.

"Fuck you," said Leigh.

"All right then," said Corey, standing up and grabbing her backpack. "Later!" she called over her shoulder, letting the door slam behind her. She left a palpable silence in her wake. Jarlaxle filled it by clearing his throat.

"If there's no further business to attend to," he said, "Artemis and I will be leaving." He nodded to the assassin, who followed him out of the room.

That left Leigh and Drizzt alone in the dorm, not an atypical situation, but one made awkward by Leigh's red face and nearly-fetal body language. Drizzt debated inquiring as to her condition, but ultimately decided that quiet was what the girl needed, and turned his attention to the books on her desk. He was currently in the middle of two; Leigh's art history book, and The Once and Future King, and he chose to continue reading the latter. Twenty minutes into his reading, his curiosity was piqued. Five minutes later, his eyes widened in horror. Seconds after that, the book had fallen from his trembling hands to the desk with an audible _thunk_.

Leigh looked over, confused. "What's up?" she said.

Drizzt struggled for a brief moment, then composed himself. "This book..." he said, but found it difficult to organize his thoughts further.

Leigh frowned and cocked her head to the side, trying to read the title of the fallen book. "The Once and Future King?" she asked.

"Yes," said Drizzt. "It... The text has taken an interesting turn."

"Enough to make you drop it?" said Leigh, taking her computer off of her lap and scooting around to face him.

Drizzt attempted to steady his still-trembling hands on the edge of the desk, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned gray.

"What part are you at?" asked Leigh, a note of incredulity in her voice. Drizzt couldn't blame her; outside of his four closest companions, no one had ever seen him this off-kilter.

"Chapter seven of _The Queen of Air and Darkness_," said Drizzt.

Leigh's lips moved as she repeated the title in her head, trying to remember the plot. "The unicorn?" she guess finally.

Drizzt nodded, no longer holding on for dear life, but maintaining his grip on the desk.

"Yeah, it's kind of a disturbing scene," said Leigh, raising an eyebrow as she noticed his hands. Drizzt let go of the desk, letting his hand wander towards a fine silver chain around his neck. He tugged on it, pulling the attached pendant up and out from underneath his shirt, letting it rest on his chest where he could run his fingers over it absentmindedly.

"My goddess," he said, not quite looking Leigh in the eye. "Her name is Mielikki. She has dominion over the woods and the wilds, and all the goodly creatures that dwell therein."

Leigh waited patiently as Drizzt paused, then finally looked at her directly and took his hand from the pendant Regis had carved for him from the bones of a knucklehead trout so many years ago. He removed the chain from around his neck and held the ivory unicorn head out for her to see.

Leigh's eyes went wide for a moment. "Oh," she said, finally understanding his distress.

"The unicorn is her symbol," Drizzt continued quietly, finding some solace in speaking. "They say it is the form she takes when she walks the prime material plane." He looked back down at the tiny carving in his hand. "...I saw one once. In a clearing where a dear friend once dwelled."

"...I'm sorry," said Leigh. "I'd have warned you if I'd known that part would be so... upsetting."

Drizzt nodded, turning the symbol of his goddess over in his fingers. He glanced up and gave Leigh a wistful smile.

"No, I'm sorry to have troubled you," he said. "It's just... I have a difficult time understanding why." His smile disappeared again, his mouth becoming a hard, tight line on his face. "Why would a group of children massacre something so..."

"It's just a story," said Leigh. "I mean, please don't take this the wrong way," she said, backpedaling at Drizzt's expression, "but... it never really happened. T.H. White just made it up. I don't know why he included the scene." She paused, choosing to regard the symbol in Drizzt's hand rather than the hurt look in his eye. "I think it's supposed to be a metaphor for lost innocence or something. I dunno. But you don't need to worry about any harm coming to unicorns. We don't have them here."

"You don't?" said Drizzt. He knew Leigh was trying to comfort him, but the concept of a world devoid of his goddess's grace was somehow worse.

"No," said Leigh. "I mean, we know what they are and everything, but as far as anyone I know knows, they're just made up."

"...I see," said Drizzt. He closed his hand around the pendant and looped the chain around his neck once more, letting the unicorn slip back underneath his shirt to rest against his chest.

"Um," said Leigh, "would you like to try a different book to read?"

Drizzt nodded absently, only dimly aware of Leigh hopping off of her bed to peruse her bookshelf. His thoughts were elsewhere, mainly back in Faerûn. More than ever, he wished to return home, to Ten Towns, or Mithril Hall, or the shining city of Silverymoon. It had been a long time since he'd felt so alone. Even when he'd been transported here, separated from his companions, he'd felt his goddess's presence with him still. Or so he'd thought. Was it even possible for Mielikki to maintain a presence in a world without unicorns?

* * *

"So, Artemis!" said Jarlaxle as he walked briskly down the path, again resisting the urge to clap his companion on the back. "Where to now?"

"I beg your pardon?" Entreri replied.

"Well, it would seem that we have an awful lot of time to ourselves, now that the situation with the wizard has been settled," said Jarlaxle. "I presume that Corey will be procuring payment for her, and all that leaves for us to do is wait."

Entreri grunted. As usual, Jarlaxle took his associate's lack of interest in stride.

"I suppose we could sign up for classes," Jarlaxle mused aloud, stroking his hairless chin.

"I don't think we can trust the wizard," said Entreri, derailing Jarlaxle's train of thought.

"Oh?" said the mercenary, tipping his magnificent hat to a small collection of thoroughly confused college students. "And why is that?"

"She doesn't seem entirely sane," said Entreri, greeting the students with a scowl that sent them scurrying.

"No wizard is," said Jarlaxle, the sudden departure of his new fanbase bringing a small frown to his features. "Do you think we should be forming an alternative plan, just in case she fails to follow through on her end of the deal?"

Entreri shrugged.

"Or is it that you wish to refuse her services entirely, in favor of more time spent in the company of one Drizzt Do'Urden?"

Entreri snapped his head around to fix Jarlaxle with a truly poisonous glare. The drow laughed it off easily.

"But you're right," he said once his fit of mirth had ended. "We should be making plans of our own, just in case. To that purpose, let us retrace your steps."

"Why?" said Entreri.

"To see if we might find the coin you dropped," said Jarlaxle. "Or find out who picked it up. It may yet be retrieved."

Entreri sighed, but he knew this would all be over much faster if he let the drow act out his whims.

Several hours later, Entreri leaned back against the gray stone of an academic building, only half-listening as Jarlaxle interrogated yet another student. Of course, the mercenary would never call it "interrogating." He would probably call it "having an informative conversation."

"If nothing else," said Jarlaxle as he sent the student on his way, waving jovially, "we now have plans for Saturday night."

"What," said Entreri, "is Saturday?"

"The day after Friday," said Jarlaxle, smiling at two young women who passed by. They giggled and waved shyly back. "Honestly, Artemis, do try to keep up."

Entreri sighed again. It would be useless to inquire further. Jarlaxle would go through at least ten more minutes of gloating before he imparted the knowledge his partner desired.

"Perhaps we could obtain a daily planner for you," said Jarlaxle, leaning against the wall next to Entreri. "It would be quite useful in teaching you the days of the week."

Again, Entreri resisted asking what a daily planner or a "week" was. If he ignored the mercenary long enough, Jarlaxle would tell him everything he wanted to know just to make conversation.

"Where were you before you passed through here?" said Jarlaxle, getting back to business.

"In the theatre cult," said Entreri.

"I beg your pardon?" said Jarlaxle.

"There is a theatre troupe in this building," said Entreri, pointing upwards to indicate the balcony he had crouched on just a few days ago. "They worship a fertility god."

"Fascinating," said Jarlaxle, his grin returning. "Shall we introduce ourselves?"

Entreri shrugged and pushed himself off the wall, leading the way into the building and up the stairs.

* * *

Corey growled at the plexiglass in her hands. It was taking forever to cut, and despite her safety goggles, she'd gotten at least two specks of the stuff in her eye so far. She set down her hacksaw and tried to break the plexiglass hunk in half with her bare hands; no dice. This stuff always went so much easier when Leigh was there to help.

"Corey?" said her professor, a woman by the name of Anne who couldn't have been older than thirty. "Can I have a word?"

"I'll deal with _you_ later," Corey told her materials as she set them on the bench, earning herself a confused look from one of her classmates. Pushing her safety goggles up onto her forehead, she followed her professor out into the hall.

"You're friends with Austin, right?" said Anne once Corey had joined her, crossing her slender arms over her chest.

"Yeah," said Corey cautiously. She'd never been a big fan of authority figures, especially when they acted like she'd done something wrong. "What about him?"

"He hasn't been in class for a while now, and he didn't email me to explain his absence," said Anne. "Do you know what's up with him? Is he sick?"

Corey shrugged. "Dunno. I haven't seen him in a while."

Anne shook her head. "Well, I just hope he hasn't dropped out. He's got such potential."

_So do I,_ Corey thought, but kept that thought from passing her lips. She shrugged again. "I'll tell him you asked about him next time I see him."

"Would you do that for me? That'd be great," said Anne with a smile, uncrossing her arms.

Corey grunted and pulled her goggles back down over her eyes, returning to the classroom to face her crafting materials and beat them into submission.

* * *

The door to the "theatre cult" was wide open, and several voices raised in excited conversation could be heard echoing from within. It all halted when Jarlaxle stepped into the doorway, Entreri close behind.

"Hello, all!" he said, sweeping his wide-brimmed hat from his head and treating his audience to a little bow. "My friend and I were just looking for something we've lost. You haven't seen a little silver coin around anywhere, have you?"

"Naw, dude," said one young man, shaking his shaggy, brown-haired head in bewilderment at the newcomer.

"Sweet hat!" said the young lady sitting in front of the computer. She wore knee-length socks with green-and-blue stripes that mirrored the pattern of her over-long scarf, and swiveled her chair from side to side as she spoke.

"Thank you kindly," said Jarlaxle, sending a grin her way. "So, no one has seen any object such as the one I described?"

"Rob?" said the shaggy boy, raising his eyebrows at another lad sprawled on the grimy couch, apparently unconcerned about its germ-carrying properties. Rob shrugged.

"I ain't seen it," he said, readjusting his arms behind his head. "Sorry, man."

"Oh well," said Jarlaxle. "If you do happen across it, could you set it aside for us?"

"Sure thing!" said the girl with the socks.

"Hey, as long as you're here," said Rob, sitting up. "You wouldn't be interested in auditions, would you?"

"No," said Entreri.

"Auditions?" said Jarlaxle, steepling his fingers. "Auditions for what?"

"Well," said Rob, getting off the couch and grabbing a stack of parchment from the desk, "we've got a few productions coming up. There's _The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told, Evil Dead the Musical, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead..._"

"You just missed _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_," said sock-girl, looking very put out.

"I am sorry for that," said Jarlaxle. "We've only just transferred into the area."

"So, do any of those tickle your fancy?" asked Rob, handing the parchments over to Jarlaxle, who took them with a flick of his wrist and began to peruse them immediately.

"To be perfectly frank, they all do," said Jarlaxle, carefully examining each paper. Entreri stared at the back of Jarlaxle's head in abject horror, wishing just this once that the stupid mercenary could read minds.

"Great!" said Rob. "I'll be directing _Most Fab_; auditions for that are next month. You just need to prepare a monologue."

"Memorized?" said Jarlaxle.

"Not necessarily," said Rob.

Jarlaxle nodded, smiling idly. Entreri's eye twitched.

"If you'd like to see what kind of shows we put on," sock-girl piped up, "we'll be putting on _The Vagina Monologues_ next week!"

"The what?" said Entreri.

"_The Vagina Monologues_," said the sock-girl, withering slightly under Entreri's glare. "It's a collection of monologues about vaginas. Lots of sex-positive energy and female empowerment."

"Do females really need any more empowering?" Entreri grumbled, directing his comment at an oblivious Jarlaxle.

"We'll be there for sure," said Jarlaxle, attempting to hand the parchments back to Rob, who waved him off.

"Keep 'em," he said. "We've got hundreds."

Jarlaxle bowed deeply and turned to leave.

"I'm Hannah," said sock-girl, hopping out of her chair and holding out her hand. "What's your name?"

Jarlaxle spun on his heel, his cloak swirling around him as he faced her again. "Jason," he said, taking her hand and kissing the air above her fingers. She blushed.

"And this," said Jarlaxle, releasing her hand and indicating Entreri with a broad sweep of his arm, "is my good friend Andrew."

Entreri scowled, but managed a curt nod.

"Cool," said the shaggy-haired boy. "I'm Dave. Look forward to seeing you again, Jason."

"And I you," said Jarlaxle, saluting as he made his way out the door, an impatient Entreri leading the way.

"_Vagina Monologues_ are next Wednesday at nine in the Campus Center!" Hannah called after them.

They walked in silence for several minutes, save for Jarlaxle's cheerful whistling. Once they were outside the building again, Entreri turned his head to speak to Jarlaxle.

"My name is Andrew?" he said. Jarlaxle chuckled, offering nothing more than a helpless shrug.

Entreri continued. "You never thought we would find the coin on campus."

"I can't really say either way," said Jarlaxle, happily shuffling his parchments. "But I'm glad to have found the opportunity to display my myriad talents onstage."

They walked in silence a few moments more, until Entreri remembered their earlier conversation.

"What, pray tell, are our plans for Saturday night?" he asked.

"We have been invited to a party," said Jarlaxle with a delighted spring in his step.

"I will not be in attendance," Entreri responded immediately.

Jarlaxle stopped skipping. "I beg your pardon?"

"I will not be attending any parties, auditioning for any plays, or listening to a single monologue regarding a single vagina," the assassin reiterated.

Jarlaxle raised his eyebrows. "And why not?"

"Because I do not wish to," said Entreri. "You are more than free to do all of these things if you wish, but do not drag me down with you."

"Fair enough," said Jarlaxle.

"...What?" said Entreri.

"You'll be missing out," said Jarlaxle, "but I'm not going to force you to do anything you want to do."

"Since when?" said Entreri.

Jarlaxle kept walking. "Perhaps," he said, "I am turning over a new leaf."

"Perhaps," Entreri muttered to himself, "it is not only the wizard who is mad."


	15. The Party

Harkle Harpell sat on the edge of his bed, massaging his forehead with his knuckles. It had been a long day of runes and spells, trying to recreate a traveling coin to bring Drizzt, Jarlaxle, and Entreri back to Faerûn. He could hear other wizards' voices echoing throughout the mansion; he ignored them until one spoke up far closer than he'd expected.

"Yoo-hoo!" said the voice from directly behind him.

Harkle whirled around, expecting to see a person, but found himself staring at the covered full-length mirror at the other side of the room.

"Hello?" he said cautiously, getting off of the bed and reaching for a particular wand from his nightstand. Anything that would use his scrying mirror to contact him without his permission or knowledge was probably hostile.

"Anybody there?" the voice said. It didn't sound like any demon or devil Harkle had heard before, but then again, the creatures were masters of mimicry. To the ears of a new mother, a demon's speech might imitate her crying infant. A husband might hear the voice of his wife.

"Identify yourself," Harkle called, raising the wand into a ready position.

"Merlinus Ambrosius III of the Ambrosius wizard clan," said the voice. "I'm looking for Harkle Harpell of the Ivy Mansion to discuss a matter involving the ranger Drizzt Do'Urden."

Stepping around his bed to reach the mirror, Harkle carefully lifted the curtain that covered the reflective surface. In the mirror was a bespectacled, androgynous human who didn't look much older than twelve.

"Hi there!" said Merlin, giving the other wizard an excited wave. Harkle waved back more cautiously and confused.

"You wanted to talk about Drizzt?" said Harkle.

"Yeah!" said Merlin. "He's here with us, and he wants to be there with you, and I figured since you're a wizard and since I'm a wizard maybe we should work together from both sides to make that happen?"

"You're in Dartmouth?" said Harkle, lowering his wand. "You've seen Drizzt? Where? When?" "Here, like six hours ago," said Merlin, sounding slightly bored by this line of questioning. "He wants to go home, along with these two other dudes I didn't know."

"Jarlaxle and Entreri?" Harkle guessed. "A human assassin and a drow mercenary?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," said Merlin, shrugging. "Anyway, I'm pretty excellent, but there's no way I can send them all back to Faerûn anytime soon. Do you have any ideas?"

"My clan and I did send the mercenaries back with a traveling coin," said Harkle, "but it fell into the wrong hands and now we have a boy from your world among us. We're working on creating another one."

"Another boy?" said Merlin.

"Another coin," Harkle said.

"Oh," said Merlin. "That's a good idea. How long do you think you'll be?"

"We estimate that it will be four months or so before the coin is ready," said Harkle.

"Damn," said Merlin. "Well, that's at least more solid than my plan."

"What is your plan?" said Harkle.

"I was going to use the Satanic energies of the campus architecture to open a transdimensional portal," said Merlin with a sigh. "But I'd probably have to wait until the summer solstice."

"I... see," said Harkle, slightly disturbed and not entirely sure that he wanted to continue this conversation. "Perhaps the traveling coin would be safer?"

"Oh, definitely," said Merlin. "Much less risk of Hell on Earth. Yeah, you keep doing that coin thing, and I'll keep working on this portal thing, and we'll see who's ready first. Deal?"

"I don't think--" Harkle began, but Merlin cut him off.

"Great. See you later!" And with that, her image disappeared from the mirror, and Harkle was left with his own horrified face to stare at. He glanced back toward his bed, considering the merits of a good night's sleep. Then he considered the likelihood of this Merlin tearing an irreparable hole in reality before the traveling coin was ready.

He heaved a heavy sigh as he put his wand in his pocket and headed out the door, back downstairs to help his kinsmen. Reality owed him big for this one.

* * *

The rest of the week passed in uncomfortable silence, at least for Drizzt. Corey and Leigh were barely on speaking terms, though both would talk to him if he prompted. Zedric, sensing the rift between the two roommates, avoided their dorm like the plague, leaving the drow to fend for himself.

Soon enough it was Saturday, the weekend, terms that Drizzt had carefully written down and defined in his purple notebook. While there was only three days' difference between a tenday and a week, he was still having some trouble tracking time with the new system. To help him keep track, Leigh gave him her old planner, which she had bought the first week of school and never used.

"Who's ready to party?" said Corey when she finally awoke around four in the afternoon.

Leigh frowned a bit at the screen of her laptop, still giving her roommate the silent treatment. Drizzt picked up the slack.

"What did you have planned?" he said, looking up from Leigh's copy of The Hobbit.

"There's a party at 504," Corey said, throwing her comforters off of her body. Drizzt quickly looked back at the book; Corey had a tendency to sleep in her underwear, if not in the nude, and he had learned to divert his gaze posthaste when she got out of bed.

"What sort of party?" said Drizzt, keeping his eyes on the page while Corey wandered over to her closet to dress.

"You know," said Corey, her voice muffled a bit by the green, knee-length dress she was pulling over her head. "Kegger with beer pong, the usual."

Drizzt picked up his purple notebook and wrote down "kegger" and "beer pong," preparing to look them up in the dictionary later if Corey failed to define them properly.

"Jarlaxle's going," Corey continued, rummaging through her drawers for fishnets. "He's trying to convince Artemis to go, too, but I dunno how that's gonna work out."

Drizzt's brow furrowed. He didn't like the idea of Corey calling the assassin "Artemis." It implied too much familiarity between them, far more than he was comfortable with.

"Wanna come along?" said Corey, pulling the fishnets over her legs and putting combat boots over them.

The drow considered her question carefully. On the one hand, he would be heading into an unknown and possibly dangerous situation with at least two people he did not quite consider allies. On the other hand, he could spend the rest of the day with Leigh, who would likely not leave the room. It came down to adventure or boredom, and once he realized that, the decision was easy.

"Of course," he said with a smile.

Corey, who had been putting chandelier earrings in, dropped them on the floor. That was not the answer she had been expecting.

* * *

Austin's hammer beat out a psychotic tattoo on the metal. Bruenor had asked for a sample of his work, and the Harpells had been able to provide tools of a reasonable quality. Now all that remained was for Austin to produce a piece of reasonable quality before the dwarves arrived at the Ivy Mansion to take him back to the mines.

No pressure.

Dozens of discarded segments of brass littered the floor around his anvil. He'd finally collected seven pieces that were to his liking, cut, filed, and sanded them into the precisely right shapes, and now he was texturing them, the final step before they could be assembled. His hammer flew at a frantic pace, the rounded head making miniscule indents in the metal's mirror finish. Each indent, when the piece was complete, would represent a single scale. He would need thousands of them.

He kept the nagging thoughts out of his head, the insecurities that told him the dwarves had seen a hundred pieces like this one, each of them better made. He concentrated on perfecting his work, making sure each blow fell precisely where it needed to. He slipped into the artist's trance, his world reducing down to the metal in his hands. In this state, he didn't realize he was being watched.

Catti-brie, having grown bored and frustrated with hovering over the shoulders of wizards, now divided her time between practicing her archery out in the field, and watching Austin's progress. She knew the dwarves' expectations well, having grown up among them. She dearly hoped this boy would be able to meet those high requirements. At first she had been in doubt, but after seeing how many nearly-perfect pieces he rejected, she realized he understood their work ethic. The work of a dwarf was only one part talent, with the other nine parts being backbreaking effort.

She slipped away to go back to her chambers, confident that the boy would be able to rise to the occasion, and not wanting to disturb him from his trance. Austin never noticed she was there.

* * *

At eight-thirty in the evening, Corey and Drizzt left the dormitory to go to the party. Jarlaxle was leaning against the brick wall next to the door, waiting for them. He had apparently spent the day at the local Hot Topic, since his outfit consisted of tight black jeans, knee-high black leather boots with three-inch heels and shiny silver buckles, and a form-fitting t-shirt telling the world that BUFFY STAKES EDWARD, THE END. All this, plus his magnificent plumed hat and usual jewelry, although the silver finger-claw seemed new.

"Do you even know what that means?" said Corey, pointing to his t-shirt.

Jarlaxle shrugged and smiled. "It seemed to delight the girl at the register, so I figured it was a safe bet."

Drizzt ignored them and stared intently upward. "Is it always so cloudy?"

Corey glanced up. "What are you talking about?"

"At most, I can count three stars," said the ranger, squinting into the heavens. "And two of them seem to be moving."

"That's a plane," said Corey, starting to walk along the path. "We don't really get stars out here. I mean, they're up there, but you can't see 'em on account of all the light pollution."

"Light pollution?" said Drizzt, following her. Jarlaxle brought up the rear.

"Yeah," said Corey. "We've got so many lights on down here that it fucks with your nightvision and you can't see the lights up there." She waved her arms, indicating the street lights the group was walking under. "That's the price you pay for safety."

Drizzt frowned and continued the walk in silence.

They heard the party before they saw it. To be perfectly accurate, they felt it before they even heard it. The bass notes were vibrating through the ground. Once they got within sight of the apartment, with its bright lights and loud music, coupled with the shouts and screams of human voices, Drizzt stopped in his tracks.

"I don't think I can go in," he said.

Corey spun on her heels to face him. "What, are you scared?" she said with a feral grin.

Drizzt shook his head. "No. But I might be bleeding from the ears."

Jarlaxle reached into the band of his hat and produced two tiny cylinders, which he passed on to Drizzt.

"Ear plugs," he said in response to Drizzt's raised eyebrow. "Should make the noise more bearable."

Drizzt popped the plugs into his ears and followed Corey and Jarlaxle in to the party. The house was packed far over capacity, making it impossible to move without touching someone. Still, people stood from chairs and abruptly stopped whatever they were doing when the trio made their entrance.

"JASON!" one young man in a backwards cap shouted over the music from the amplifier directly behind him. His cry was echoed by a dozen others, along with clapping, whistles, and cheers. Jarlaxle bowed as well as he could in the confined space, waving congenially to his new fan club. Corey followed him with her head held high, her walk halfway between a slink and a strut. Drizzt tried his darndest to blend in, but knew that he was failing. Anyone who looked even remotely like the popular "Jason" was bound to be pounced on by the eager revelers.

Trailing after Corey and avoiding the advances of many young ladies, Drizzt found himself in a kitchen. Everyone was crowded around the table, upon which numerous plastic cups were arranged.

"What are they doing?" Drizzt asked Corey, half-shouting to be heard over the party.

"Beer pong," Corey shouted back. "Or beirut if you're fancy."

One young man tossed a small white ball at the cups, but missed them entirely. The ball bounced off the surface of the table and was easily caught by Jarlaxle, who smirked at the boy who had thrown it.

"Drink," said the drow.

The boy in question looked plenty inebriated already, but he obeyed, selecting a cup from the table and pouring its contents into his mouth. The rest of the crowd cheered.

Jarlaxle took his turn, casually chucking the ball at the table. It landed squarely in a cup with nary a splash.

"Drink again," said Jarlaxle.

The boy shrugged helplessly and drank from the cup the ball had landed in.

The game went on much like that, with Jarlaxle playing against various partygoers and winning handily, though Drizzt noticed he flubbed a few turns on purpose, probably to keep the other players from crying foul. Drizzt was getting bored with watching the game, and tired of feeling women's hands pawing at his backside. One even tried to reach around to his front, but he quickly slapped the offending hand away, hoping the girl it belonged to would not get angry. As it was, she moved along to Jarlaxle, who was more than willing to play along with her.

Corey, who had already played a couple turns of the game, glanced at Drizzt and saw his discomfort. "You wanna get some air?" she said (or rather, shouted).

Drizzt nodded vigorously and followed the trail she blazed through the party to the back door of the house, out onto the porch, which was just as crowded, but somewhat quieter. In stark contrast to Corey's promise, the air quality outdoors was even worse than the air inside, mostly thanks to the porch's occupants smoking like chimneys. Drizzt waved away an offered cigarette, struggling not to cough, and removed his ear plugs to hear the conversations around him.

"There's a hookah in one of the upstairs bedrooms," said the boy who'd held out the cigarette. He seemed to think Drizzt's refusal was due to the quality of the tobacco presented, and not the idea of tobacco itself.

"No kidding?" said Corey. Unlike Drizzt, she was intensely interested in the idea, having already taken a suspicious-smelling clove from someone else in the outdoor crowd.

"Yeah," said the boy. "They taped a plastic bag over the smoke alarm."

Drizzt grew bored with their continued discussion of tobacco flavors and looked towards the heavens again, searching in vain for more than one or two stars. He thought he'd found one when someone bumped into him from behind.

"Oh my God!" said the offending girl, announcing her presence to the small crowd. Drizzt thought he recognized her from the drawing class, but it was hard to tell. They all dressed the same.

"You're not going to believe what happened," she went on, obviously waiting for more people to pay attention to her before she began her story.

"What?" said Corey, annoyed at the interruption.

"Trevor just totally trashed the bathroom!" said the new girl. "We were all doing lines off of Sam's mirror in the bathroom when he ran in and started puking on everything. I think some of it got in Lindsay's hair."

"Gross!" said another girl, expelling the word along with a plume of smoke that floated into Drizzt's face. He surreptitiously waved it away.

"I'm not surprised," said the boy who up until now had been Corey's conversation partner. "He was losing bad at beirut. And he started playing trashed. At least five PBRs."

"Lines of what?" said Corey, honing in on the part of the story that interested her.

"Um, Adderall, I think?" said the story-telling girl.

"'Scuse me," said Corey, squeezing past the girl to get back into the house. "I could definitely use some of that right now."

Drizzt sighed and followed her in. He wasn't sure he could navigate this party alone. As they passed through the kitchen, he heard someone call his name. Looking up, he saw it was Jarlaxle, still by the beer pong table, and still winning.

"My partner's ducked out on me," said the mercenary, each arm around an appreciative girl's waist. "Care to play? I'm afraid you're the only challenge here."

Drizzt shook his head and moved on, following Corey up a staircase. They were halfway to the second floor when the noise started, a shrill whooping accompanied by flashing lights in the ceiling.

"Fuck!" shouted Corey. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She ran back down the stairs and pushed her way through the panicking throng to make it out of the house. She ran to the tree line, about twenty feet from the door, then stood and looked back, watching the exiting crowds and searching for her drow companions.

"And where is our dear Drizzt?" said a voice by her shoulder. She jumped and turned around to see Jarlaxle leaning comfortably against the trunk of a young oak.

"I dunno," said Corey. "He was right behind me when we were inside."

"So I observed," said Jarlaxle, pushing himself off of the tree and taking a few measured steps towards the house. "And yet, he is not here now. We may have to go back in and rescue him."

"He must have got out," said Corey. "The house is totally empty."

"If it is, in fact, empty," said Jarlaxle, "then it should be a breeze to get back inside, no?"

Corey sighed and gave the crowd one last searching glance before she sprinted to the house to catch the door and slip inside. The fire alarm was deafening, and she cursed the stupidity of the occupants of the hookah room, whose smokey antics were doubtlessly the cause. They probably hadn't even bothered to secure the bag around the smoke detector with tape, or put a towel under the door.

As Jarlaxle predicted, an empty house made Drizzt very easy to find. He was right where Corey had left him, in fact, though no longer standing. The ranger had curled up into a corner with his hands clamped over his ears and his eyes screwed shut. Corey grabbed his arm and yanked, attempting to pull him up into a vertical position.

"Come on, we have to go!" she shouted, giving Drizzt a few blows to the head to get his attention. He squinted up at her, then rose to his feet, wincing, hands still over his ears. She guided him out of the house and to the tree line, where Jarlaxle was waiting to start the walk home.

"You took out your ear plugs, didn't you?" said Jarlaxle, unable to keep a knowing smirk off his face.

"What?" said Drizzt.

Jarlaxle repeated the sentence in the drow hand code, and Drizzt nodded affirmatively.

"Bad decision," said Corey.

"What?" said Drizzt.

"You can take your hands off your head now," said Corey, but even as she spoke, she noticed that the drow's hands were hanging by his sides, his arms relaxed. Her eyes widened, then she reached up to snap her fingers right next to his ears. He gave her a funny look.

"Can you hear that?" she shouted, snapping them again.

Drizzt, finally realizing what she was getting at, shook his head, his expression turning from confusion to horror. He looked to Jarlaxle for an explanation.

_My friend,_ the mercenary signed, _I believe you may have gone deaf._


	16. Movie Time

AN: This chapter contains spoilers for the 2009 Sherlock Holmes movie. If you haven't seen it by now, you should.

* * *

"How the hell did this happen?" Leigh shouted.

"Just 'cause he went deaf doesn't mean I did!" said Corey, pressing her hands over her ears. Corey, Jarlaxle, and Drizzt had returned to the dorm room to solve their newest problem. Zedric, Merlin, and Entreri had been called over as consultants, though so far only Zedric had shown up.

"I believe it was the fire alarm," said Jarlaxle, sitting perched on the edge of Leigh's desk, yet still looking more comfortable than anyone else in the room.

"The fire alarms don't even wake me up," said Leigh. "How could they make him deaf?"

Drizzt frowned, trying to parse out what everyone was saying. He could read lips, but everyone was turning their heads and speaking quickly as the conversation progressed.

"Leigh," he said, his voice twice as loud as usual. "Look at me and enunciate."

"Sorry," said Leigh, following his directions and speaking louder for good measure, though the volume of her voice didn't make any difference. Drizzt was as deaf as a stone.

"Your ears aren't as sensitive as an elf's," Zedric explained to Leigh. "The fire alarms give me hearing loss for hours afterward, and my ears are only half as keen as Drizzt's."

"You've never lost your hearing completely, though," said Leigh.

"No," Zedric admitted. "But it always comes back. So maybe we can wait this out?"

"Perhaps," said Jarlaxle, searching through his pockets. Leigh, who was seated on the edge of her bed farthest from the mercenary, scooted over so that she was barely touching it.

"Every time he goes out with you, something terrible happens," she said, glaring at Corey. "Have you ever considered maybe, I dunno, _not_ doing something totally stupid?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Corey snarled back, hands balled into fists.

"Enough!" said Drizzt. He intended to raise his voice loud enough to be heard over them, but due to his hearing loss, ended up shouting at the top of his lungs. Either way, the two girls promptly shut up.

"I propose we contact Merlin again, explain the severity of the situation to her, and hope she gets back to us with a solution that doesn't involve endless bickering," he went on, lowering his voice slightly but still talking louder than anyone else in the room.

"I concur wholeheartedly," said Jarlaxle with a broad smile. He held his hand out for Corey's phone, which she slapped into his palm with a disgruntled huff.

The phone call was brief, with Merlin's phone rolling directly to voicemail. Jarlaxle left another message, this one expressing slightly more urgency, then hung up and resumed searching his own pockets.

"Has anyone heard from Artemis?" he asked again.

"We should really work on getting him a phone," said Corey. "That goes for the rest of you, too." She held up her own green cell as an example. "I'm starting to get a little annoyed with y'all constantly 'borrowing' this one."

"Yeah, a phone's going to do Drizzt a lot of good _now_," Leigh mumbled under her breath, more to her knees than to anyone else.

"I am confident the situation will improve as soon as we get in touch with either the wizard or my associate," said Jarlaxle, hopping off of the desk and turning his pockets inside out.

"What are you looking for?" said Drizzt.

"Something that I believe could easily disperse your deafness," said Jarlaxle, signing along with his spoken words for good measure. "Unfortunately, when I changed my outfit, I left quite a few of my items with Artemis. So until we hear from him again…"

Drizzt sighed, nodding.

* * *

Austin barely kept his hands from trembling as he soldered the final piece of the dragon into place. The final product was as long as his arm, composed of seven segments of shining brass, with minutely textured scales, semiprecious red gems for eyes, and silver-plated claws and teeth. A low-budget work of art, but impressive nonetheless, at least to human eyes.

Whether it would stand up to the tests of the dwarves remained to be seen.

He'd finished it none too soon, as Catti-brie soon appeared in the doorway of his temporary studio.

"They're here," she said with a comforting smile. Austin managed to twitch his metal-lined lips into a smile back at her.

With no more warning than that, King Bruenor himself entered the room, accompanied by three other dwarves. Though short in stature, he made an imposing figure, with his fiery red beard and omnipresent scowl. The scowl was currently directed up at Austin, who clasped his hands behind his back and bowed to the king.

"All righ' then, lad," said Bruenor, waving away the boy's attempts at courtly behavior. "What d'ye got for me?"

Carefully, Austin lifted his masterpiece off of the work bench and placed it in the king's hands.

"Good weight," was Bruenor's first comment, followed by several minutes of stony silence as he held the piece at arm's length and simply stared, his eyes focusing in on every detail, good or bad. Finally, he passed it on to the first smith in line, a brown-bearded dwarf whose nose had been broken in at least one brawl, perhaps two. Brown-beard was just as silent as the king in his examination.

Over the course of an hour, the brass dragon was passed around the dwarven contingent and studied from every angle. Austin did his best not to shift his weight or fiddle nervously with his piercings. Catti-brie remained in the doorway, observing the proceedings with a quiet but encouraging smile.

At last, the piece was back in Bruenor's hands.

"Well, lads?" he said to his smiths. Brown-beard spoke first.

"Soldering lines are clean," he said, "but the scales have scratches on 'em."

Austin winced.

"Gems solidly placed," said the next in line, a yellow-bearded fellow. "Not bad fer a human."

The third dwarf, whose hair and beard were a striking shade of green, commented only with a smile and a low "ooh" sound. The other dwarves nodded in agreement.

"Just one question," said Bruenor, his brow knitting slightly. "Where're its wings?"

Austin looked at his dragon in a panic. Of course, he should have thought of this from the beginning. Faerûn had real dragons. Why hadn't he been looking to the wizards' beastiaries from the very start?

"It's an Asian dragon," he blurted out.

"A what?" said the king, raising an eyebrow.

"Where I'm from, there are two basic kinds of dragon," Austin went on, talking so quickly he thought his lip rings might tangle together and shut him up for good. "European dragons and Asian dragons. European-style dragons have wings, Asian ones don't. They fly like kites, soaring on wind currents." The last part of his little speech was complete bullshit; he'd never dedicated any time to studying the hows and whys of the differences between Eastern and Western dragon myths. He hoped desperately that the dwarves wouldn't pick up on that gap in his knowledge.

"I see," said Bruenor, giving his smiths a sideways glance. "We don't generally get the second kind around here."

"You're right," said Austin, resisting the urge to drop to his knees and grovel. "I'm sorry. I'll do more research in the future, I promise."

Bruenor nodded solemnly, glaring at the dragon for a few more moments. Then, quite suddenly, he burst into uproarious guffaws, along with his compatriots.

"Ye got to learn to defend yer work, lad," said the king, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye. "Other'n that, I'd say we've got ourselves a decent candidate for the forge. Any objections?"

"He's got a long way to go yet," said brown-beard, still chuckling, "but I think we can work with him."

"All right, then!" said Bruenor. "Yer in, laddie."

Austin, still in shock, took a moment to respond, but soon showered the king with thanks. Bruenor waved it off.

"The team'll take off in two days," he said. "Be ready to leave early in the mornin', or we're goin' without ye."

Austin nodded his assent and the dwarves left the studio, Catti-brie following her father with a quick congratulatory wink at Austin.

* * *

It was another hour before Merlin deigned to return Jarlaxle's calls. The drow put her on speakerphone and set the phone on top of the desk, translating her speech into sign for Drizzt's benefit.

"Guten tag," Merlin said cheerfully. "Do you have my payment?"

"It's on the way, I promise," said Corey, rolling her eyes at the phone. "We have another problem for you to solve. Drizzt's gone deaf."

"So I've heard," said Merlin, stifling a giggle. "Get it? Deaf? Heard?"

"Comedic gold," said Corey. "Do you have a solution or what?"

"Have you tried Health Services?" said the wizard.

"No," said Zedric. "We figured it would be a stupid move to have a health professional examine his ears, as she might conclude that they are _pointy_."

"Oh yeah," Merlin replied absently. "I guess I could come over, though I gotta warn you, healthcare isn't my specialty."

"Whatever works," said Corey. "Just get here soon."

With that, the wizard hung up on them.

"She's on her way," Corey announced to the group.

"So I'd gathered," said Jarlaxle, pulling aside the blinds to glance out the window at the sidewalk below. "I think I'll take a stroll."

"Now?" said Zedric. "But she'll be here any minute."

"And as I am not the deaf one, my presence here is superfluous at best," said Jarlaxle, stepping toward the door. "I believe my time would be better spent searching for my associate. Don't wait up."

Jarlaxle shut the door behind himself with a smile, but it quickly changed to a concerned frown as he walked down the hallway of the dorm. What Entreri could possibly be up to, he didn't know. But he doubted it was anything that would benefit their cause.

A quick survey of the building's perimeter yielded few clues as to the assassin's location. Entreri was damned good at covering his tracks, an obvious and necessary skill for anyone in his trade. Still, Jarlaxle's prowess was nearly equal to Entreri's, and he made an educated guess, setting off in the direction of the Campus Center.

He found the assassin waiting for him at the door of the auditorium.

"The monologues aren't until Wednesday, Artemis," said Jarlaxle, leaning against the wall beside the assassin.

"The cult is suspicious," said Entreri, not sparing a glance to acknowledge the drow.

"No, my friend, I believe you are the suspicious one," said Jarlaxle, glancing around. "As far as I can tell, we are the only persons in the area at this hour of night."

"I've searched the premises," the assassin continued. "There are seven trap doors, two hidden staircases, and one closet containing no less than a dozen fake human corpses."

"Fake corpses, you say?" said Jarlaxle. "That's a disappointment. I expect their productions would seem far more realistic with genuine cadavers, thought I suppose they wouldn't keep well."

"We gain nothing from interacting with them," said Entreri. "Your insistence on participating in their upcoming performances only serves to put us at risk."

"The coin was 'lost' here, Artemis," said Jarlaxle.

"And you think it may yet be found?" said Entreri.

"No," said the mercenary with a smirk, "but it's your own damn fault that I came in contact with these people in the first place, and as such, you have no one to blame for my interest in theatre but yourself."

Entreri turned his head away from the drow, studying the wall intently.

"At any rate, we require your presence back at the dorm," said Jarlaxle, idly fiddling with the feather in his hat. "Will you be returning with me?"

"Are we finally disposing of its residents?" said Entreri.

"No," said Jarlaxle. "Drizzt is in jeopardy and has need of your aid."

Entreri snapped his head around to glare at the drow.

"You might have mentioned that earlier," he said, pushing himself off of the wall and starting along the path back to the dorms. Jarlaxle followed him, chuckling all the way.

* * *

"Have you reached any conclusions?" Drizzt asked, keeping his tone as polite as possible. Merlin had been poking his ears for the last quarter-hour, and even his patience was wearing thin.

"It's not lupus," said the wizard.

"No shit, Sherlock," Corey snapped, her arms folded tightly over her chest.

"You know, I'm being awfully generous here," said Merlin, "consulting pro-bono. Most of my colleagues wouldn't even bother themselves with something so minor."

"Well, you can take your pro-bono consultation and shove it up your—"

A knock at the door interrupted both Corey's retort and Merlin's examination, much to Drizzt's relief. Jarlaxle and Entreri entered shortly thereafter. Upon seeing the assassin, Leigh scooted backward on her bed into the far corner of the room.

"We have a solution!" said Jarlaxle, holding up a small vial of blue liquid. "In every sense of the word."

"Finally," said Corey, flopping backwards onto her bed. "Now we can get on with our lives."

"And what thrilling lives they are," said Jarlaxle, uncorking the vial and stepping forward to take Merlin's place. "Press your right ear to your right shoulder, if you please, dear Drizzt."

Drizzt followed the mercenary's directions somewhat reluctantly, not quite trusting in his "solution." Jarlaxle tipped the vial over and poured three drops of the liquid into Drizzt's left ear. It caused a slight burning sensation as it worked its way through his ear canal.

"Now, stay like that for another half-hour to let it set," said Jarlaxle, "and we can go ahead and do the other one."

Drizzt's eyes widened; the mercenary's voice was faint, but unmistakable.

"Ah, you heard that, did you? Excellent," said Jarlaxle with a chuckle, re-corking the vial and taking a seat on the edge of Leigh's desk. Entreri remained by the door.

"So, the problem is solved, yeah?" said Merlin. "Can I go now?"

"Please," said Corey, waving an arm at the door. Merlin stepped toward it, but paused just before exiting.

"I am getting rather impatient," she said. "Please have my payment soon, plus twelve percent interest." With that, she was gone.

"What the fuck is twelve percent of twenty boxes of Nerds?" said Corey.

"Figure it out in the morning," Zedric said with a yawn. "I'm going to bed. Good luck, Drizzt."

"Thank you," said Drizzt, speaking at normal volume again.

* * *

Drizzt awoke early the next morning to the sound of birdsong, his hearing fully repaired by Jarlaxle's potion. The mercenary and the assassin had left soon after the second dose, much to Leigh's relief. She and Corey were still sleeping soundly. It had only been a few hours since they'd gone to bed. Drizzt stepped around the room carefully so as not to wake them.

He spent most of the morning outside, summoning Guen for a brief run among the sparse trees, dismissing her reluctantly when he heard other campus-dwellers beginning to rise. He walked down every road the campus had to offer, scaling a few of its walls for good measure. It still did not solve his major issue.

Drizzt was bored. Profoundly, utterly bored. Last night's party had, at its outset, seemed to offer a temporary solution, but like so many things in this world, it had only led to disaster. Drizzt found himself desperate for adventure, almost wishing for a raiding party of orcs to descend upon the campus. With a heavy heart, he headed back to Leigh and Corey's dorm room, entering by way of the window for the sake of a challenge, one which he easily overcame. The two young women were both still asleep.

He turned to Leigh's books to pass the time. They were informative as always, but ultimately dull. He was considering going back to bed just to kill a few hours more when Leigh finally got up.

"Good morning," she said, stepping into her closet to get dressed.

"Good morning," Drizzt replied, polite as always. "Do you have any plans for today?"

The question was borne more of desperation than expectation. Leigh never had plans beyond her laptop.

"Actually," said Leigh, "I was thinking of going to see 'Sherlock Holmes.' They're playing it in the Campus Center this afternoon."

"Playing it?" said Drizzt, still getting over the shock of Leigh planning to leave her dorm room.

Leigh paused for a moment, then stuck her head out of her closet. "I totally forgot to explain movies to you, didn't I?"

"So it would seem," said Drizzt, taking out his purple notebook.

"Sorry," said Leigh, stepping out of her closet, dressed in her typical jeans and t-shirt, almost indistinguishable from Drizzt's own outfit. "You know what a play is in the context of theatre, right?"

"Yes," said Drizzt.

"Okay, so a movie is like a play that has been recorded, so you can see it over and over again without the actors having to perform it each time. Movies usually have much better costuming and special effects than plays."

"Special effects?" said Drizzt, his pen at the ready.

"Fake stuff," said Leigh. "Like explosions and character deaths. They don't really blow stuff up or kill people, just make it look really convincing."

"I see," said Drizzt. "Are movies typically violent?"

"Not always," said Leigh, sitting on her bed facing Drizzt. "Some of 'em are just people talking. Sometimes they don't even talk, just stare meaningfully at each other for hours on end. Like 'Twilight.' But 'Sherlock Holmes' is on the more violent end of the scale."

Drizzt nodded as he wrote. "And movies usually last for hours?"

"Between an hour and a half and three hours, yeah," said Leigh. "Do you want to go see it with me?"

Drizzt finished his note-taking as he considered her offer. Watching other people's adventures seemed as close as he would get to having his own.

"I'd be delighted," he said, closing his notebook and looking up to see Leigh smiling brighter than he'd ever seen.

After a quick walk from the dorm to the auditorium, Drizzt and Leigh were sitting side-by-side in the dark, mostly empty theatre. The movie was scheduled to begin at two o'clock, but as Leigh had explained to the ranger, these things always started late.

Drizzt studied his surroundings, unhindered by the darkness. The auditorium had been skipped on Corey's brief campus tour. Now Drizzt could see that it was a large room almost entirely devoid of decoration, shaped to echo sound from the stage out to the audience. The stage was currently covered by a stiff white curtain.

Without any warning, a bright light shone on the curtain and a giant moving picture appeared, accompanied by sound pouring out of the walls. It was nearly as loud as last night's party, making Drizzt wince.

"Sorry!" said Leigh. "I forgot how loud these things get!"

"Shh!" said the nearest audience member, sitting four rows away.

Drizzt patted down his pockets for his ear plugs, finally finding them and putting them to good use. Even with the ear plugs in, the movie was still perfectly audible. The moving pictures and swiftly-changing angles dizzied him at first, but he quickly got used to it and sat back to enjoy the film.

An hour and a half later, he emerged blinking into the light outside the auditorium.

"So, what'd you think?" said Leigh, bouncing up beside him.

"Very convincing," Drizzt said. "Sherlock Holmes handled himself well in battle, though I would have handled things a little differently." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Far from alleviating his desire for action, the movie had only tantalized him. Now more than ever, he wished for adventure.

Leigh was about to press him for specifics, when she widened her eyes and quickly stepped behind the ranger. The cause of her actions was not a mystery for long, as Drizzt spied Jarlaxle and Entreri approaching from the theatre.

"Marvelous!" said Jarlaxle, flinging his arms wide, an empty box of popcorn in one hand. "Wouldn't you agree, Drizzt?"

Drizzt nodded, stepping to the side to cover Leigh more completely.

"Oh, come off it, Drizzt, we can all see her. More importantly, we heard her in the theatre." Jarlaxle bent over and peered around Drizzt to address Leigh directly. "You're not just supposed to silence your cell phone, my dear. You should also silence yourself."

"Sorry," Leigh squeaked.

"No harm done," said Jarlaxle, waving away her apology. "What did you think of it, Artemis?"

"Lord Blackwood was an idiot," the assassin replied immediately. "There was no reason for him to bury the redheaded man in that tomb. Clearly it was done only to give Sherlock Holmes a clue, an act no reasonable man would take without the motive of hubris. And considering that, the detective's deductions aren't particularly brilliant at all, since they all stem from Lord Blackwood giving him that major hint."

Entreri's review was met with stunned silence.

"You know, I honestly didn't think you were paying attention," Jarlaxle finally said. "And what is your opinion of it, Leigh?"

"Um," she said, "I liked the fight scenes. And the dialogue was funny."

"Humor and adventure, what more can anyone ask of their entertainment?" said Jarlaxle with a wide smile. "I'd love to chat more about it, but we have cell phones to acquire. _Au revoir_, Drizzt, Leigh." With a tip of his enormous hat, Jarlaxle twirled and set off down the path to the parking lot, Entreri following behind.

Leigh stepped out from behind the ranger with a small but profound sigh of relief.

"Where does one get a cell phone?" asked Drizzt.

"The mall," said Leigh, scowling after her former kidnappers. "Corey's probably driving them."

"How difficult is it to get one?" said Drizzt.

"Depends on what you want to do with it and how much you want to spend," said Leigh, starting to walk back in the direction of the dorm. "You could probably get a pay-as-you-go one without too much hassle. Why?"

"Curiosity," said Drizzt. "That, and I don't feel comfortable with Jarlaxle and Entreri being ahead of me as far as equipment is concerned. Have you replaced your phone yet?"

"My parents are sending me a new one in the mail," said Leigh. "I hope it's not pink."

Drizzt smiled slightly, hands in his pockets as he followed her back to the dorm, itching for a fight.


	17. Shopping and a Show

A/N: This chapter contains references to the real show, "The Vagina Monologues," which you should definitely check out if you get the chance. As you might have guessed by the title, "The Vagina Monologues" talk about genitals. A lot. So does this chapter. You have been warned.

* * *

"Accelerator's on the right, brake's on the left," said Corey from the back seat of her car.

Jarlaxle nodded thoughtfully, turning the key in the ignition with a delicate touch. The engine roared to life, and he threw his arm across the back of the passenger seat, turning his head around to watch as he backed out of the parking space with flawless technique. Any driver's ed class would have been pleased with his performance. Entreri was not.

"Must you do that?" he grumbled, eyeing Jarlaxle's hand over his right shoulder.

"You're the one who insisted on taking the front seat," said Jarlaxle, facing forward to guide the car out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

"Don't forget your blinkers," said Corey. "Turn left at the light, then right when you see the sign for the mall."

"Thank you, Corey, I remember," said Jarlaxle idly, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove. Entreri gripped the handle above the passenger side window as though it was the only thing keeping him in place, his face growing paler with every minute Jarlaxle was behind the wheel.

"You needn't be so nervous, Artemis," said Jarlaxle, executing a smooth turn into the mall parking lot. "You're wearing your seatbelt."

"Yes, I'm thoroughly restrained in this death trap, thank you for the reminder," Entreri snapped. He was quite relieved when the vehicle finally stopped outside of the mall.

"We might as well go clothes shopping while we're here," said Jarlaxle, stretching his legs after exiting the car and handing over the keys to Corey.

"You have plenty of clothes," said Entreri, following Corey into the building, his eyes flickering furiously from one point of interest to the next. The mall was packed with humans, most of whom would not be considered a threat. But Entreri hadn't survived this long without maintaining constant vigilance.

"Not for me, for you," said Jarlaxle. "As the half-elf said, you stick out, and not in a good way."

Entreri bit back his retort. The mercenary was right; if he was to have any hope of success in this new world, he needed to blend in.

"Cell phones first," said Corey, pointing at the sign above a particular storefront.

"Radio Shack?" said Entreri.

"Yep," said Corey, stepping into the shop. Her entrance prompted a little "ping!" noise, the source of which Entreri could not immediately ascertain.

"How can I help you," said the man behind the desk, evidently the proprietor of the establishment. It wasn't a question, more like an obligatory utterance.

Jarlaxle immediately walked up to the counter, studying the many cell phones displayed vertically in glass cases. "How many colors does this one come in?" he asked with a disarming smile.

After an hour of Jarlaxle's questions on the style, make, model, features, texting ability, and calling plan of every phone in the store, he seemed to finally come to a decision. The clerk handed him a stack of parchment.

"Ah," said Jarlaxle, "I'm afraid you'll have to help me with these."

The man raised an eyebrow. "They're pretty self-explanatory."

Jarlaxle ignored him, instead focusing on searching his pockets until he produced a small, finely-cut ruby on the end of a silver chain. He held it in front of the clerk's eyes and gave it a little tap to set it spinning. The man's jaw went slack.

"Good, good," Jarlaxle cooed. Entreri rolled his eyes with annoyance, while Corey began to study the ceiling for security cameras.

"Now then," said Jarlaxle, "what's _your_ Social Security number?"

* * *

"You really shouldn't do that," said Corey as they walked out of the store with two new Lotus cell phones. "I mean, you really, _really_ shouldn't."

"Care to explain your reasoning?" said Jarlaxle, already changing his phone's settings. He held it up and snapped a quick picture of Entreri, who looked to be on the verge of murdering his associate. Of course, that was nothing Jarlaxle hadn't seen before.

"There are security cameras all over this place," said Corey, leading the way towards JC Penney. "When they review the footage, they're going to find out that no money changed hands, and they're going to track us all down for shoplifting."

"But the phones were paid for," said Jarlaxle, giving a passing group of youngsters a charming wave. "Mr. Smith was so terribly generous."

"And when he wakes up from whatever hypnosis you put him under, will he still be feeling generous?" said Corey.

"When he 'wakes up,' he will remember us only as his new friends, whom he was only too happy to procure shiny new cell phones for," Jarlaxle explained patiently. "Oh, now doesn't this look handsome?"

He had stopped in front of a mannequin wearing a plaid short-sleeved buttonup and black slacks.

"I do like the way the blue intersects with the yellow," he went on, scratching his chin. "What do you think, Artemis?"

"I don't care," the assassin said through gritted teeth.

"It's not really your color though, is it?" said Jarlaxle with a sad little sigh. "Oh well, we'll keep looking."

They kept looking for the better part of three hours, until even Corey's shopping energy was spent.

"Seriously," she said, her voice echoing off the walls of the men's dressing room, "there is literally _no difference_ between these two blues. I'm an art major! I should know!"

"That's because you're looking at the color," said Jarlaxle, "not the cut of the collar. Try this one on again, won't you, Artemis?"

At that, a shirtless and enraged Entreri strode out from behind the changing curtain and snatched the shirts out of Jarlaxle's hands, crumpling them into a ball and throwing them at the discarded items rack.

"We're getting the green ones," he said. "That's it."

"Which green ones?" said Jarlaxle. "The button-ups or the polos?"

"I. Don't. Care. Just get them and get us out of here," the assassin snarled.

"Well, which pants?" said Jarlaxle. "We still haven't found any thirty-by-thirties, though I suppose we could just get the thirty-by-thirty-twos and hem them…"

"Do that," said Entreri, throwing on the shirt he had worn into the store. "We're done here."

Jarlaxle considered bringing up the as-of-yet unresolved topic of shoes, but thought better of it after a quick glance at his companion's expression.

* * *

"My major gripe with the film is the romance between Sherlock and Irene Adler," Leigh was saying to a barely-interested Drizzt. "It was totally forced. In the original stories, he's explicitly asexual."

Drizzt was spared from replying to her rant by a knock at the door, followed by Corey bursting into the room with her arms full of shopping bags. Jarlaxle and Entreri entered shortly after.

"Hello again!" said Jarlaxle, waving his new phone in the air. "We've just returned from the mall."

"I can see that," said Drizzt, raising an eyebrow at the unusual trio.

"I'd make Artemis model his new wardrobe for you, but…" Jarlaxle glanced back at the assassin, who was displaying his most impressive scowl. "I think you'll just have to see it as he wears it."

"A pity," Drizzt replied dryly.

"Well, we're just here to drop Corey off before we head back to our humble campsite," said Jarlaxle. He plucked a small purse from his belt and opened it as wide as possible, then started unloading shopping bags into it. Corey's jaw dropped.

"Why didn't you do that in the first place instead of making me carry 'em all in from the car?" she cried.

"You have to admit," said Jarlaxle, not looking up from his task, "they make for a much more impressive spectacle that way."

"Ugh!" said Corey, falling onto her bed. "I am never going shopping with you again."

"No matter," said Jarlaxle, putting the last pair of pants into his bag of holding. "As long as I can still borrow your car, we shouldn't have any trouble. Good night, everyone!" He swept the hat from his head and bowed deeply before turning on his heel and, along with Entreri, disappearing into the night.

"Is there a way we can block them from coming into our room?" said Leigh. "Because I would totally approve of that."

"Short of magic, I don't think so," said Drizzt. "And even then, Jarlaxle would find a way around it." He turned to Corey. "And how was your day?"

"Never again," she groaned, burrowing under her comforter.

* * *

The dwarves had spent their two days at the Ivy Mansion, partly resting up from their journey, and partly going over the work that the Harpells had done to get Drizzt back. At dawn, their ponies were readied, with Austin on the largest animal.

"Just keep yer nose to the grindstone, and ye'll do fine," Catti-brie reassured him.

Austin nodded. "Thanks for everything."

Catti-brie shrugged and smiled, then looked around with concern. "Where's me father? He's slowin' the whole party down."

"He's not comin'," said brown-beard, who Austin now knew as Sven.

"What d'ye mean, 'not comin''?" said Catti-brie, giving the dwarf a sideways glance.

"The king said he had ter stay on here, so he'd be ready to leave as soon as the travelin' coin was done," said Sven.

Catti-brie's bemused smile turned into a furious scowl. "Like hell he is!" she said before storming off back up to the castle.

"Goodbye, Princess!" the yellow-bearded dwarf, Ivan, said with a wave.

"Oo-oi!" added the dwarf with the green beard, a druid named Pikel.

Austin shook his head. This was going to be an interesting trip.

* * *

"You are not going to rescue Drizzt," said Catti-brie, crossing her arms and glaring down at her father.

"And why not?" said Bruenor, scowling right back up at her. "Whatever reason ye have, it's not goin' ter sway me."

"You can't rescue him because I'm going to rescue him!" said Catti-brie. "Right, Harkle?"

Harkle Harpell winced. He wasn't sure how he'd been dragged into this argument. He supposed it was just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and not taking the hint and leaving the Fuzzy Quarterstaff along with the rest of the Harpells when Catti-brie had first entered.

"Right, Harkle?" Catti-brie repeated, turning her gaze to the wizard.

Harkle's gaze flicked nervously from the dwarf king to his daughter. "Perhaps we could reach a compromise?" he said. "Why don't you both go?"

"Because she's me only child, and I'll not risk her life in a strange land full of unknown dangers!" said Bruenor.

"And I'll not have him risking his life in a strange land full of unknown dangers on account o' him being the king o' Mithril Hall, and havin' bigger responsibilities!" said Catti-brie.

"Drizzt'll be happy to have you alive and waitin' for him here when he gets back!" said Bruenor.

"Oh, and I suppose if you were alive and well too, he'd be all sorts o' disappointed?" said Catti-brie.

"Look, you're both equally important to him!" said Harkle. "So either both of you go on this rescue mission, or you can both just stay home!"

He immediately regretted his proclamation when the pair turned to look at him.

"Well?" he said, shrinking back. "That's only fair, isn't it?"

Bruenor glared at him for a moment, then let out a defeated sigh. "Sound good to you?" he asked his daughter.

Catti-brie acquiesced with a curt nod. "We'll both go."

"Great," said Harkle with a sigh of relief. "Sounds great. Now then, I'll just go facilitate the going, shall I?"

"You do that," said Bruenor. "And do it quick."

* * *

For Drizzt, Monday consisted of a quick early-morning run with Guen, drawing class with Corey, and the rest of the day spent walking every path the campus had to offer.

Tuesday was the same, minus the drawing class.

By Wednesday, every other recreational pedestrian on campus knew him by name.

"Hi Drizzt!" said Hannah, a bubbly girl that the ranger usually ran into at about one-o'clock in the afternoon. She was easy for him to recognize at a distance, mostly because of her lime green sneakers and consistently bright-colored choice of t-shirt. Another constant was her Two-Penny Players sweatshirt, worn on her person on chilly days, but usually tied around her waist.

"Good afternoon," said Drizzt with a polite smile, altering his trajectory to walk beside her. Company helped kill the boredom.

"You coming to the show tonight?" she said.

"What show?" said Drizzt.

Hannah stopped dead in her tracks, an action Drizzt realized was less out of genuine shock and more for dramatic effect. It was part of the hazard of walking with a member of the theatre club.

"The Vagina Monologues!" she said, her voice a little louder than Drizzt would have liked.

"The… what?" said Drizzt, quickly recovering his composure.

"Dude, the posters have only been up for like a month," Hannah chided him, restarting her walk. "How did you miss them?"

"I'm just not clear on what exactly these monologues are," said Drizzt, glancing around to see if their conversation was being overheard. Was public discussion of genitals normal in this world?

Hannah took a deep breath and launched into a well-rehearsed explanation. "The Vagina Monologues are a series of essays performed by a group of empowered women to raise awareness of misogynistic crime."

"A worthy cause," said Drizzt. "And this happens tonight?"

"At seven," said Hannah. "You'll be there, right?"

"I suppose I'll have to be now," said Drizzt with a smile.

"Great! It's gonna be awesome. I play the lawyer who quits her job to dedicate her time to giving women orgasms."

"Sounds… enlightening," said Drizzt.

The rest of his walk with Hannah was much the same, with the young woman chatting up a storm using words that Drizzt would rather not have heard, and Drizzt making his most polite attempts at noncommittal commentary. Finally she left for her Women's Studies class, leaving Drizzt almost regretting his promise to attend the show. He reminded himself that the alternative was yet another evening spent in the confines of the dreaded twenty-by-twelve dorm room. Perhaps he could convince his roommates to accompany him to the theatre, though he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted any witnesses to his attendance. At any rate, he told himself, it was guaranteed to be an event devoid of the assassin's presence.

* * *

Entreri was not having a good evening. He would have been happy to spend it scouting the campus, or tailing one of the many suspicious students he had catalogued in his brain, or quietly researching this world and its cultural norms in the library. Instead, Jarlaxle had dragged him to the auditorium.

"If you're so anxious about what this cult might do," the drow rationalized, "then what better way to observe them than from the inside?"

And so the assassin was roped into helping out backstage, a task which mostly involved hauling cartons of genital-shaped confections out to the already-crowded and increasingly noisy lobby.

"I'm not selling these," Entreri informed Jarlaxle as he placed the final box on the concessions counter, elbowing a potential customer out of the way.

"Of course not," Jarlaxle agreed, smiling as he artfully arranged a display of chocolate vulva-pops. "You are many things, Artemis, but a salesman is not one of them."

"I'll meet you back at the campsite, then," Entreri said, beginning to walk away.

"Don't be absurd," said Jarlaxle, waving a candy penis at his associate. "You'd miss the performance entirely, and then who would I sit with?"

Entreri turned around to offer a scathing retort, but was distracted by the sight of Drizzt Do'Urden approaching the auditorium, followed by Leigh, Corey, Zedric, and Merlin.

"He came!" said Hannah, who had taken a break from rehearsing to survey the concessions counter. She began to jump up and down, clapping her hands with glee. "He came he came he came! Hi, Drizzt!"

Drizzt managed a cordial wave, carefully keeping his eyes on her face. Hannah's costume consisted of a very professional-looking black blaze, and not much else.

"You look great!" said Leigh, running up to Hannah and giving her a hug. This was only partially motivated by camaraderie; the sight of Entreri threatened to ruin Leigh's evening, and hugging Hannah was the only thing keeping her from trembling with fear.

"Thanks!" said Hannah, squeezing Leigh's ribs. "I have to go backstage now. Enjoy the show!"

"We will," said Leigh, reluctantly letting go of her friend. She turned to face the assassin again, relieved to find him thoroughly engaged in a quiet argument with Jarlaxle.

Drizzt, meanwhile, was staunchly avoiding the concessions counter, moving to lean against the wall beside Leigh. He checked the watch Zedric had loaned him: it would be another twenty minutes before the show started.

"Should we go claim our seats?" Drizzt asked Leigh.

"Great idea!" said Leigh with entirely too much enthusiasm. "Guys?"

"Save me a spot," said Merlin, not taking her eyes off of the merchandise Jarlaxle was offering. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Same," said Corey, coolly leaning against the counter with her hands in her pockets. "I'm going to be sitting in the dark for the next two hours. No point to getting an early start."

"Zedric?" said Drizzt, noticing the half-elf's obvious discomfort at being trapped between the mercenaries and the display of edible genitals.

"Yes please," the half-elf replied, following the girl and the drow into the theatre. "Remind me why I'm here?" he asked after the three of them had sat down.

"We're supporting Hannah and Evka," said Leigh, "along with all victims of anti-women violence around the globe."

"Right," said Zedric. "So why are your kidnappers here?"

"How should I know?" Leigh snapped back, scowling down at her program.

Drizzt took no notice of the students' argument, distracted by the thought of Jarlaxle and Entreri lying in wait for him outside. Were they here because of him, or for their own nefarious purposes?

After what felt like an eternity, the house lights went down, and the trio were joined by Corey and Merlin just before the director came onstage to announce the location of the exits. There was a brief warning regarding the show's content, and then a curvy young woman took her place in the center of the stage.

"That's Evka," Leigh whispered to Drizzt.

Evka brushed her dark bangs out of her face, clasped her hands behind her back, and beamed out at the audience.

"Cunt," she proclaimed, and the show began.

* * *

"So what'd you think?" Hannah immediately accosted Drizzt after the show. The cast was milling about with the audience in the lobby, taking photos with friends and signing posters.

"It was very educational," said Drizzt. For the first time all day, he was sincere in his response. The show had taught him more about this world in two hours than a comparative amount of time spent in the school's library.

"You were remarkable, my dear!" said Jarlaxle, swooping between Drizzt and Hannah to give the girl a bouquet of pink carnations. "Very convincing."

"Aw, thanks, Jason!" said Hannah, her cheeks matching the flowers as she gave the drow one of her trademark enormous hugs. Jarlaxle didn't seem to mind, winking at Drizzt over Hannah's shoulder. The ranger tactfully looked away.

"Great show," said Leigh, only approaching her friend after Jarlaxle had wandered off to deliver more bouquets.

"Thanks," said Hannah, that being all she could manage before she was dragged away for another cast photo.

"Have you seen Corey?" Leigh asked Drizzt. "I think she left without me again."

Drizzt shook his head, surveying the crowd. "Perhaps we could wait for her outside?"

Leigh nodded, and Drizzt blazed a trail through the theatre-going throng. He wrinkled his nose as soon as they got outside, the stench of cigarette smoke heavy in the air. A cluster of smokers waved to him as he hurried past, Leigh in tow. They stopped by a bush to watch for their friends.

"What did you think of the show?" Drizzt asked after a minute or so of uncomfortable silence.

"I liked it," Leigh said. "'Course, I like it every year, so that's not saying much. Not that Evka and Hannah weren't great! They were great. Everyone was great. It's a great show."

Leigh's nervous proclamations of greatness were halted by the arrival of Jarlaxle, who stepped out from behind the shrubbery to offer her a single carnation.

"Oh come now, there's no call for that," he said in response to her panicked shriek and attempts to hide behind Drizzt. "Unless you're allergic, of course."

"Thank you," said Drizzt, plucking the flower out of Jarlaxle's hand. "I'm sure she appreciates it."

"I'd have brought one for you as well, but they sold out fast," said Jarlaxle with a resigned shrug. "I suppose you two will simply have to share."

"Thank you," Drizzt repeated, unsmiling. Jarlaxle staunchly refused to take the hint.

"Have you seen Artemis around anywhere?" he said, standing on tiptoe to peer over Drizzt's head at the crowd beyond. "I managed to convince him to sit beside me through the show, but I lost him as soon as it ended."

"Perhaps he's waiting for you at your campsite," said Drizzt.

"It's certainly a possibility," said Jarlaxle, "unless – there he is!" The mercenary waved his arms, making a scene impossible to ignore.

Entreri gave up all hope of sneaking off unnoticed into the night and approached the group, offering no greeting other than a silent glare at Jarlaxle.

"And what did you think of the monologues, Artemis?" said Jarlaxle.

"I didn't," said Entreri, removing his ear plugs.

"But that's cheating!" said Jarlaxle, utterly crestfallen.

"The alternative was suicide," said the assassin. "Can we go now?"

"In a moment," said Jarlaxle, waving away Entreri's suggestion. "I have a few more congratulations to dish out, in addition to breaking down the concessions stand. Why don't you stay here and keep Drizzt company?"

"We were just leaving," said Drizzt, mindful of the terrified Leigh hiding behind him.

"Without Corey and the rest of your entourage?" said Jarlaxle. "Last I saw, they were searching for you up in the balcony. It would be unspeakably rude of you to abandon them."

"I'll get them!" Leigh offered immediately, darting out from behind Drizzt and sprinting past the smokers to enter the building before Jarlaxle. The mercenary followed her at a leisurely pace, leaving Drizzt and Entreri to face each other. Entreri focused his attention on the bush, Drizzt on the sky.

"You're not going to find any stars," the assassin finally spoke, startling Drizzt out of his melancholy astronomy exercise.

"And what are you hoping to find in the shrubbery?" said Drizzt. It was weird, exchanging words with the assassin that weren't punctuated by the clash of weapons. He couldn't decide whether this unarmed meeting was a blessing or a curse.

Entreri shrugged, still not looking at the drow. A few more moments of silence passed, until Drizzt decided to attempt pleasantries again.

"How are you getting along here?" he asked.

"Miserably," the assassin replied, surprising Drizzt, who hadn't expected a response. "The people are insipid. The air is unbreathable. And Jarlaxle…"

"…is enjoying himself?" Drizzt finished for him.

"It's beyond that," said Entreri. "I believe he intends to stay."

"And you would stay with him?"

Entreri sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I'm not even certain it's possible to escape in the first place."

Drizzt nodded absently, somewhat distracted by the unbelievable circumstances. The lack of blades would not have stopped the Entreri he knew from an attempt on his life. Both the ranger and the assassin were skilled enough at hand-to-hand combat, and even if that weren't the case, weapons could easily be improvised from their surroundings. And yet here they were, having a civil, if somewhat awkward, discussion.

"There is nothing for me to do here," Entreri concluded. "And yourself?"

"Losing my mind," said Drizzt with a laugh. "I've walked every path this campus has to offer a dozen times over."

Entreri nodded. "As have I. All of the roads, all of the halls…"

"The secret passages?" Drizzt asked.

"A total of nineteen, by my count," said Entreri, "not including the tunnels. You?"

"The same," said Drizzt.

"And the pathetic exercises they call fighting?" said Entreri. "It makes me sick."

"The food," Drizzt countered.

"The clothes," Entreri said, gesturing to his own outfit.

"Jarlaxle has excellent taste," said Drizzt, biting back a smile.

Entreri sighed, shaking his head. "His madness ceased to amuse me weeks ago. All I have left is ennui. But perhaps… we could work together to change that?"

Drizzt raised an eyebrow. "What do you propose?" he said slowly, uncertainty creeping back into his tone.

"I have thoroughly reviewed every club on campus. Boxing, wrestling, martial arts… They are all worthless," said Entreri. "Nothing but amateurs. The only real challenge on campus is you."

Drizzt stiffened, resisting the urge to step back from the assassin. He knew what was coming.

"I propose a sparring match between the two of us," said Entreri.

"When and where?" said Drizzt, surprising himself. He would never have agreed to this in the past. Then again, he would never have commiserated with the assassin in the past, never understood so thoroughly the terrible boredom that would slowly drive any man or woman to insanity.

"Tomorrow morning, if it suits you," said Entreri. "At sunrise, in the pine grove behind the gymnasium."

"Done," said Drizzt.

"Good," said Entreri, turning and walking away.

Drizzt watched him go, his hands twitching at his belt, wishing he had his scimitars with him. He wasn't sure he could wait until morning.F


	18. Fight! Fight! Fight!

Sunrise seemed to take forever to come. Drizzt leaned his back against the trunk of a pine, his scimitars back on his belt where they belonged. He hadn't realized just how much he missed them until he'd strapped them on again just an hour before, leaving the dorm room as quietly as possible.

He hadn't told anyone of his conversation with the assassin. Leigh would have begged him not to go. Corey would have insisted on coming along to bear witness. Jarlaxle might have convinced Entreri not to fight at all.

Drizzt couldn't risk having this match stopped. Just the promise of action had done wonders for his nerves. He'd slept better last night than he had in weeks.

Thoughts of his friends back in Faerûn intruded briefly, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. He knew they would never approve of this. There was no point in dwelling on it.

The light in the grove began to turn orange. The sun was cresting over the treetops. Finally, Drizzt caught a glimpse of the assassin's approach. Entreri was back in his Faerûn garb, as was Drizzt. Once again, they mirrored each other, as they had ever since their first meeting.

Drizzt pushed himself off of the tree and walked out to the center of the clearing.

"Well met," he called.

"Indeed," Entreri replied, continuing his approach at an unhurried pace. "Are you ready?"

Drizzt nodded.

"Good," said the assassin, drawing his blades and breaking into a run.

* * *

Harkle stared down at his scrying bowl in disbelief.

"Oh no," he murmured, shaking his head, unable to take his eyes from the scene before him. "Oh no, no, no…"

Just minutes earlier, the wizard had been filled with joy. He'd finally tracked down Drizzt's position, and had sent one of his cousins to rouse Bruenor and Catti-brie. He had planned to surprise them with a glimpse of their lost friend, something to give them hope and to reassure them that the Harpells were doing their best to get him back.

In hindsight, he really should have previewed the drow's situation.

"Harkle?" said Catti-brie, arriving in the doorway of the wizard's chamber. "What're ye about?"

"Nothing," said Harkle, not looking up from his bowl. "Absolutely nothing. A mistake. A mirage. Go back to sleep."

"What're ye looking at?" said Catti-brie, ignoring the wizard's words and walking up beside him to peer into the bowl.

"Don't!" said Harkle, attempting to cover the bowl with his sleeve, but Catti-brie grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise.

"What in the Nine Hells is going on down there?" she cried. "Is that Entreri?"

"Yes," Harkle squeaked.

"Why are they fighting?" Catti-brie demanded. "You said he could be trusted!"

"Please let go," said Harkle. "My arm—"

"Damn your arm!" said Catti-brie just as her father walked in.

"What's goin' on?" Bruenor demanded, hurrying over to gaze into the bowl. "Moradin's beard!"

"I'm sure it's all under control," said Harkle.

"Drizzt is fighting with that foul assassin again," Catti-brie said, shaking the wizard. "How in the blazes could that possibly be considered under control?"

Harkle had nothing to offer but a terrified shrug. Catti-brie released him and turned her full attention to the scene laid out before her.

* * *

Entreri opened with a charge, both blades out in front to spear the drow, a move Drizzt easily sidestepped, slapping aside sword and dagger with his scimitars and countering with a right-handed slash at Entreri's back.

The assassin ducked under the blow, aiming his next strike at Drizzt's knee. The drow threw the threatened leg back and stabbed down at the assassin, but the move put him off-balance, and a hit to his sternum with the pommel of the jeweled dagger sent him falling backwards.

Drizzt recovered quickly from his fall, rolling to the side and narrowly avoiding the assassin's sword, which plunged point-down into the dirt where his heart had been seconds earlier. Twinkle slashed at the arm holding the sword, but was blocked by the dagger. Entreri yanked his sword out of the dirt just in time to dodge Drizzt's attempted beheading.

"Still bored?" said Drizzt, twirling his scimitars.

Entreri simply grinned and lunged at him again.

* * *

Jarlaxle rapped his knuckles on the door of the now-familiar dorm room, smiling at a girl in a towel making her way down the hallway. Before he could engage her in conversation, the door opened to reveal an irate Corey.

"What," she grunted, pushing tangled hair out of her face and giving the drow her best glare.

"Sorry to trouble you so early in the morning," said Jarlaxle, "but you haven't seen Artemis around, have you?"

"No," said Corey, starting to close the door. Jarlaxle kept it open with his knee.

"Has Drizzt seen him?" he said, pointedly raising an eyebrow at the girl.

Corey frowned and looked over her shoulder, intending to wake up the presumably sleeping ranger, only to find the bed empty, and made with hospital corners.

"Drizzt's out," she informed the mercenary.

"A pity," said Jarlaxle, a slight frown marring his features. He pushed the door further open. "It would seem that his scimitars are also absent."

"So?" said Corey.

"Well, my dear, if Artemis is missing, and Drizzt is missing, and they are both armed…" Jarlaxle trailed off, intending for the girl to draw her own conclusions.

"…then they've decided to hunt down and kill their own breakfast like real men?" said Corey.

"I rather doubt that," said Jarlaxle. "Perhaps it would be prudent for us to find them before they inflict serious harm on the general populace, or worse yet, each other."

"Fine," said Corey, letting go of the door handle and allowing Jarlaxle to enter the room. "Just give me a minute to get changed."

* * *

"Had enough, drow?" Entreri hissed, one knee on Drizzt's chest, both blades at the ranger's throat.

Drizzt answered his query by hooking his own arms under Entreri's and knocking them away. This left the assassin's torso momentarily undefended, and Drizzt took the opportunity to aim one scimitar at Entreri's heart.

But he wasn't quite fast enough, and Entreri's sword knocked the scimitar away, quickly twirling in the assassin's hand to ready for a retaliatory slash. Drizzt parried it easily enough, and dodged the follow-up stab from the jeweled dagger.

The duel had been going for twenty minutes, much longer than most swordfights. This was typical for any meeting between the two rivals; they were perfectly matched, and any advantage one gained over the other was sure to be only temporary.

As the fight went on, however, Drizzt began to wonder about its conclusion. They hadn't agreed on an end-time. The assassin didn't seem to want Drizzt dead anymore, at least not immediately. The knee-hold had proven that; there was nothing stopping Entreri from simply slicing Drizzt's throat with either blade. Of course, the drow had been venerable for a matter of milliseconds, but that was more than enough time for the assassin to do his work.

The ranger's thoughts were interrupted by Entreri's enchanted sword producing a wall of ash between them, obscuring the assassin from view. Drizzt was unfazed by this development, immediately dropping a globe of darkness over the pair, blinding both opponents equally.

Entreri backpedaled out of the magical, impenetrable shadow, sweeping his weapons back and forth in front of himself to block any attacks from the drow. Drizzt, meanwhile, rolled to the side to avoid a potential lunge from the assassin. The pair now stood about fifteen feet apart, weapons at the ready.

"That's quite enough," Jarlaxle's voice startled both of them. The fighters had been too absorbed in their battle to notice his approach. He was leaning casually against the very tree that Drizzt had waited by, with Corey standing beside him, her mouth hanging open in shock and awe.

"As much as we're enjoying the show," the mercenary continued, stepping away from the tree and maneuvering himself between Entreri and Drizzt, "I'm afraid I have to put a stop to this. I'd hate to see either one of you hurt."

With a glance at the assassin, Drizzt lowered his scimitars, only sheathing them when his opponent did the same.

"That was awesome!" Corey shouted, leaping in front of Drizzt. "Oh man, why the fuck didn't I bring my camera? Brutal!"

"Yes, it was an impressive display," said Jarlaxle. "However, I doubt the Campus Police would have been so appreciative, especially considering the recent rise in mountain lion sightings and reports of suspicious men lurking around the academic buildings. That said, we should probably vacate the area posthaste. You two head for the dorms, while Artemis and I will go back to our camp. Fair?"

Drizzt nodded, disguising his annoyance at the interruption. Entreri mirrored the gesture, but threw in a scowl for good measure.

"Good," said Jarlaxle, turning and walking away with Entreri by his side. The assassin kept his gaze focused on the path ahead of him, never looking back at the clearing. His arms hung limp and relaxed, leaving his hands resting by his sides. Drizzt was about to turn around and leave when he caught sight of the fingers of Entreri's right hand discreetly signing a brief missive in the drow code:

_Same time next week?_

* * *

The trio around the scrying bowl watched the fight in silence, broken only at its conclusion.

"What was that all about?" said Catti-brie.

"It would seem Jarlaxle put a stop to the nonsense," said Harkle.

"We could see that," said Catti-brie, gesturing impatiently toward the bowl. "Why were they fightin' in the first place?"

"Because they hate each other?" Bruenor suggested dryly, crossing his arms.

"They weren't aimin' to kill," said Catti-brie. "Drizzt left himself wide open, and Entreri just put him in a hold. It makes no sense."

"Perhaps he has experienced a period of personal growth, resulting in a change of heart where he no longer feels the need to eliminate Drizzt in order to prove his own worth?" said Harkle.

The dwarf king and his daughter exchanged skeptical glances.

* * *

Leigh was having a great day. Not only had she woken up on time for class and aced her art history exam, but for the first time in weeks, she had walked from building to building by herself. The leftover terror from her experience with the assassin had prevented her from behaving like a normal person, but she knew she couldn't go on like that forever. So today she forced herself through every step to get from her dorm to the campus center.

It wasn't easy. She avoided every rock, tree, and bush that an attacker could hide behind. And passersby gave her nervous looks for the way she held her box cutter in her hand. But she felt some modicum of safety, which was delicious and sorely missed.

Now she was returning to her dorm room, on the way back from the school's Mail Center, with a package containing a shiny new cell phone. (She'd explained the loss of her old one to her parents by claiming she'd dropped it in the street, where it had been run over by a bus.)

"Hello!" she said as she unlocked and opened the door to her dorm room. "How's everybody doing?"

She paused, keys in one hand, box in the other, and stared at her empty room. She frowned, then shut the door behind herself and went to her desk to set up her new phone. To her delight, she discovered that it was a blue model, not another pink brick. After copying over her old address book and plugging it in to charge, she made her first phone call.

* * *

"So, what the crap was that all about?" said Corey, walking the campus perimeter with Drizzt. They'd gone in silence for a while, avoiding the subject of what she had witnessed, but Corey's curiosity could only go unsated for so long.

"We were bored," Drizzt said, offering the simplest explanation he could think of.

"Boredom means knife fights in Faerûn?" said Corey. "Damn, now I have to visit."

Drizzt hesitated. He could tell her about the ever-present ennui he felt in a land where the only source of danger seemed to be the cuisine. He could describe the desperately-needed thrill, the rush of adrenaline that came only from a no-holds-barred battle for his life. He could speak of the gnawing doubt, the fear that he might never see his friends or any of Faerûn ever again. He could tell her all this, and no doubt he would be mocked for it. He would take the mockery stoically, of course, but he'd rather avoid it in the first place. And so Corey's commentary was met only with more silence. It was in the midst of this silence that Corey's cell phone went off.

"What now?" she muttered, fishing it out of her pocket and flipping it open. "Hello? …Oh. Yeah, uh, we went for a walk. …We're on our way back now. …Great. Bye."

"That was Leigh," she said to Drizzt. "She wants us to go back to the dorm room and see her new phone."

Drizzt barely resisted rolling his lavender orbs. Leigh was nice enough, but her idea of entertainment did not often overlap with his own.

"Or," said Corey, feeling pretty much the same way as Drizzt in regard to Leigh's suggestion, "we could jump in front of a bus."

"If she's expecting us, we should endeavor to be there soon," said Drizzt, withholding a sigh. He started to lead the way down the paths that would take them to the dorm. Then Corey's phone rang again.

"Dude," she said, flipping it open with a great deal of annoyance, "we'll be there when we get there, okay? …Oh. Um, hang on. It's for you," she said, holding the phone out to Drizzt.

Drizzt raised an eyebrow, but took the phone from her and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Well met, Drizzt!" Jarlaxle's voice came through the speaker. "I hope you're not harboring any lingering malice towards our mutual friend?"

"None whatsoever," said Drizzt, steadfastly ignoring Corey's attempts to eavesdrop by leaning way too close to the ranger.

"Good!" said Jarlaxle. Drizzt could easily picture the mercenary wearing his most charming grin as he spoke. "I thought perhaps we could all meet up for lunch, just to smooth over any rough edges in the relationship."

"I'm afraid we have a previous engagement," said Drizzt.

"If you'll just hand the phone back to Corey," said Jarlaxle, ignoring him. "I can give her the address and time of our meeting."

"Fine," said Drizzt, his patience wearing thin. He handed the phone back off to Corey, who seemed surprised, but took it anyway.

"144 Westport Road," she said aloud, staring at the sky. "One o'clock? Great, see you there." She snapped the phone shut. "Dude, Drizzt, free lunch! You could look a little more excited."

"And what will we tell Leigh?" said Drizzt.

"That we have to be someplace other than the sensory deprivation chamber at one this afternoon?" said Corey. "It's only eleven, we can pop in, see her stupid phone, and pop out in time for lunch."

"You don't think she'll question where we're going, who we're going with, and why we're not bringing her along?" said Drizzt.

"We're going out, with some people, and we're not bringing her because she wasn't invited," said Corey, counting off the steps on her fingers. "Seems simple enough to me."

By this point, they had reached the dorm itself. Corey used her ID to swipe the door open and Drizzt held it for her as she walked in. He may have disapproved of her behavior, but his chivalrous instincts died hard.

"All right, Leigh," said Corey as they finally got in to the dorm room itself. "Where's this sweet new phone we just have to see?"

Leigh bounced off of her bed, holding the phone out at arm's length, inches from Corey's nose.

"It's blue!" she said, her grin almost as wide as when she'd learned of the existence of magic. "And it slides! And it has a keyboard! And it's blue!"

"Great, but what color is it?" said Corey, unimpressed. Drizzt gently plucked the phone from Leigh's hand for closer examination.

"Very nice," he said, humoring her. "An improvement?"

"Huge improvement," said Leigh, hopping in place.

"Almost worth getting kidnapped for, huh?" said Corey, flopping onto her bed and reaching for her laptop.

The smile died on Leigh's face, her gaze dropping to the floor. She took the phone from Drizzt and went back to her bed, sitting on it cross-legged and hunched over.

Drizzt stared in disbelief at Corey. He opened his mouth to rebuke her, but was cut off by Leigh.

"Where have you two been?" she asked.

"Out," said Drizzt. "Walking. It's a beautiful day."

"Yeah," said Leigh, avoiding his eye and staring at her new phone, sliding it open and shut. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Drizzt took up his usual seat at Leigh's desk and cracked open her art history textbook. Leigh had never so much as glanced at it, while Drizzt was on the last chapter. He finished it, then started on her English literature text. He had just finished the first chapter of that one when Corey spoke.

"We're going out," she announced, shutting her laptop and jumping down from her bed. "See you three-ish."

"Where are you going?" asked Leigh.

Drizzt carefully placed a bookmark in the literature textbook, hoping he wouldn't have to step in to mediate this.

"To a place," said Corey, her hand on the doorknob. "At a time. Come on, Drizzt."

The ranger stood, trying to ignore the expression on Leigh's face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a more transparent display of hurt and confusion.

"We'll be back soon," he assured her, following Corey out the door.

* * *

"You shouldn't treat her like that," said Drizzt in the parking lot.

Corey shrugged, opening the driver's side door and sliding into the car. "You coming or what?"

"The trauma she feels is recent and real," said Drizzt, getting in the car and buckling his seatbelt. "Artemis Entreri is not a man to be trifled with."

"So why were you 'trifling' with him this morning?" said Corey. She snuck a sideways glance and a grin at Drizzt before turning her full attention to the road.

"I have the means to defend myself," said Drizzt. "Leigh does not. I'm not suggesting you coddle her, but I believe a more sensitive approach would be prudent."

"She went to class all by herself today, didn't she?" said Corey. "She's fine, just kind of a drama queen. Don't waste your time worrying about her."

The car ride was a short one. The address 144 Westport Road belonged to a restaurant adjacent to the mall.

"IHOP?" said Drizzt as he stepped out of the car.

"International House of Pancakes," said Corey, locking the vehicle and leading the way into the restaurant. "Breakfast any time you want it."

Drizzt hadn't gone three steps into the building before he was accosted.

"There he is!" said Jarlaxle, getting up from the bench beside the cash register to clap Drizzt on the back. "We were getting worried, thought you'd stood us up!"

The mercenary was dressed in an outfit similar to the one he had worn to the party, only this time, his t-shirt was a green one that declared him to be "rated G for General Audiences." Entreri, wearing one of the business-casual outfits Jarlaxle had picked out for him at the mall, remained seated on the bench. Drizzt gave him a nod, which Entreri pretended not to notice.

"All here?" said the waitress as she approached the foursome. Drizzt frowned slightly, sure that he recognized her from somewhere.

"Indeed," said Jarlaxle, flashing a winning smile.

The waitress responded with a weak imitation and led the four to an empty booth. Entreri and Jarlaxle were seated on one side, with Jarlaxle taking the aisle seat, trapping the assassin in the booth. Corey and Drizzt took up the opposite position, with Drizzt directly across from Jarlaxle, ready to escape should the situation get too weird. The restaurant wasn't particularly well-populated today; it could seat up to fifty patrons, but only two other tables besides Drizzt and company were filled.

"This place is delightful," said Jarlaxle, cracking open the menu after the waitress had announced the specials and left. "Everything looks so tempting, I don't know where to begin. What will you have, Drizzt?"

"I'm not hungry," said Drizzt, his hands folded over his menu, which lay flat and unopened on the table.

"Oh, come now, lunch is on me!" said Jarlaxle. "You haven't lived until you've tried cheesecake pancakes."

"The food here is poison," said Drizzt a little too loudly, drawing weird looks from the few other restaurant patrons. "Haven't you noticed?"

Jarlaxle pursed his lips, confused for just a moment, then laughed.

"Of course! Here, take this." He pulled a silver band with a large, green emerald from his left pinkie and handed it off to Drizzt. "That should prevent further difficulties with the local fare."

Drizzt studied the ring, idly twirling it between his index finger and thumb. It was obviously enchanted to counteract poisons, or at least, that was the implication Jarlaxle was trying to get across. Whether it would work remains to be seen.

"And how will you keep yourself safe now?" said Drizzt, slipping the ring onto his own hand while raising an eyebrow at the mercenary.

"You must not know me very well if you think I don't have failsafes in place," said Jarlaxle, wiggling his fingers to draw attention to the dozen other rings adorning his person. Drizzt doubted that the actual anti-poison charms were also rings, but he got the point. Jarlaxle wore no accessories that were not enchanted in some way or another.

"Are we ready to order?" said the waitress, returning to the table a little too quickly.

"A few more moments, please," Jarlaxle said with his sweetest smile. "You were wonderful in the Monologues, by the way."

Drizzt's gaze shot from his new ring to the waitress. It was Leigh's friend Evka, the young woman responsible for introducing the Monologues. Now that he had a reference point to work from, she didn't look all that different in person than she did on stage. Same curvy figure, same short-cropped black hair. But after the words he'd heard coming out of her mouth that night, Drizzt found it a little difficult to look her in the eye.

Evka smiled, a genuine one this time. "Thanks! Could I start you off with drinks, then?"

"Water," Drizzt said immediately, still not trusting any other liquids in this world.

"Water," Entreri echoed, still examining his menu.

"Coke," said Corey.

"And a coffee for me," said Jarlaxle. "With a water."

Evka nodded, writing everything down on her little notepad and tucking the pencil into her apron when she was finished. "Great. I'll be back in just a few moments." With that, she turned and sashayed away.

"Speaking of the Monologues," said Jarlaxle, watching carefully as Evka departed, "I wonder how well they'd go over in Menzoberranzan."

"Swimmingly, I'd expect," said Entreri, idly playing with the salt shaker. "The matriarchy can always use reinforcement."

"Oh, no, not the Vagina Monologues," said Jarlaxle. "There'd be nothing subversive about it in an environment that's already female-dominated. No, I mean the Penis Monologues!"

Corey snorted and hurriedly buried her face in her hands to stifle her laughter.

"Or perhaps the Phallus Monologues would sound somewhat more dignified," said Jarlaxle.

"You'd be on an altar in an instant," said Drizzt, doing his darndest to process the absurdity of the suggestion and maintain his stoic façade.

"If they haven't sacrificed me already, they're hardly going to do it over a little play," said Jarlaxle, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands behind his head.

"To leave you alive after this would start riots," said Drizzt. "Matron Mothers are not going to just stand by and let you incite rebellion amongst the males."

"Wait, your society is ruled by chicks?" said Corey.

"You catch on quick," Entreri muttered, rearranging the sugar packets.

"That's awesome!" said Corey, but the drow were too busy debating to correct her.

"I wouldn't incite rebellion, Drizzt," said Jarlaxle. "Honestly, your love of hyperbole knows no bounds. I just think it would be a good way of increasing morale in the Bregan D'aerthe ranks. We're already a safe haven for males who would otherwise be rendered literally heartless by the matriarchy. Why not give them a voice?"

"Because asking your troops to put their feelings about being male in a female-dominated society into writing would be akin to asking them to sign their own death warrants?" said Drizzt.

"Well, there is that, yes," said Jarlaxle. "But codes can be used. Monologues can be memorized, and the written copies destroyed."

"Where would they perform?" said Drizzt.

"At my headquarters, of course," said Jarlaxle. "Or in other safe havens. And it needn't be a full-scale performance. Soldiers could recite Monologues to each other at their leisure, spreading the word about gender equality."

"You intend to turn mercenaries into poets?" said Entreri, stopping his condiment fiddling to shoot an incredulous glance at Jarlaxle.

"It's good for any drow to have pride in what he does, and who he is," said Jarlaxle. "I think these Monologues would be precisely the tool for the job."

Drizzt would have offered a retort, but he was interrupted by the reappearance of Evka, with their drinks.

"Water, water, water'n'coffee, and a Coke," she recited as she passed out beverages. "Are we ready to order now?"

* * *

978-555-6294: hi evka, its leigh. new phone!

413-555-2827: hey there! cant chat, at work. pretty sure i just saw a black gay couple propose. silver ring with a green rock. super cute!

978-555-6294: dawww, that sounds totally adorable. have fun at work!


	19. DEAD FIC IS DEAD

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

As you might have guessed, this fic has been abandoned. Sorry for anyone hoping for a conclusion. Feel free to assume Drizzt had many more wacky adventures before being returned safely home to Faerûn, and that nobody made out with anybody else. Thank you all for reading, and especially for all your kind reviews!

- AmbrMerlinus


End file.
